


Le Festin

by FawkesyLady (Tarma)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cock Worship, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Edgeplay, F/M, Illustrated, Massage, Mildly Dubious Consent, Outdoor Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Porn with Feelings, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:13:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25714108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarma/pseuds/FawkesyLady
Summary: Masters in their respective fields, Hermione Granger and Severus Snape "encounter" one another at a Potions Conference in Kona, Hawaii.Listen y'all. This is straight-up smut with a dash of feelings; not my usual sort of story. 95% sexual fantasy,  this is my most erotic work to date, and it was all inspired by a piece created by LunaP999.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 114
Kudos: 290
Collections: Hearts and Cauldrons Discord Members





	1. Les rêves des amoureux

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LunaP999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaP999/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Snaddy's Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25715611) by [LunaP999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaP999/pseuds/LunaP999). 



> So, you might have noticed the dub-con flag. The summary below explains it. 
> 
> Chapter Summary: 
> 
> Hermione's spent a lovely day admiring Severus Snape's massive intellect. She'd even sat on a panel with him, so she is not surprised when her subconscious delivers - one devastatingly sexy Potions Master standing in her bedroom door. There was no way that she was going to let this dream slip through her fingers! 
> 
> Severus had just nipped out to the Courtyard, still buzzing with the after-effects of a nitwit's Master Thesis submission: A bastardized Draft of Clarity. When he returned to his room he discovered a mysterious witch waiting for him, eager to warm his bed. It must be his lucky night!

It was late, and Hermione was knackered. 

Ginny would be disappointed in her, for what sort of witch only works during an all-expenses-paid conference in Paradise? 

Her red-headed friend had never understood what really made Hermione hum. Green, white, and black sand beaches populated by scantily dressed people with depressingly perfect faces and no mastery of conversation or interest in debate weren’t a draw, they were her idea of purgatory. 

Give her a lively conversation with a man of education and understanding, whose tongue is as sharp as his wit any day. Brains were infinitely more attractive than a so-called six-pack. That isn’t to say she was incapable of appreciating the delights of a fit figure in a man, but it wasn’t enough to capture her full attention. 

When she’d been issued the invitation to participate in a panel covering the use of Arithmancy to aid in the development of new recipes and the integration of new components, she’d been interested as it was a subspeciality of hers. When the event organizer dropped the names of the other panel members, she nearly creamed herself.

Ginny could say what she wanted, but it wasn’t the locale that had enticed Hermione to make the journey across the globe to attend the Society of Extraordinary Potioneers convention in Hawaii, but the keynote speaker -- Severus Snape. 

Today had been everything she’d daydreamed about over her desk at the Institute. He was unerringly polite, and she dared believe that his barbs were gentler than they had been in the past. Merlin, he’d even smiled at her. That vision was committed to memory. She had to talk to Colin Creevey, to see if there was a way to get that image onto paper. No one would believe her, otherwise. 

Warmed by these happy thoughts Hermione was lulled to sleep by the soft murmur of the waves lapping up on the beach below her balcony. Plumeria’s unique fragrance was thick in the air, and Hermione adored it enough to conspire how she might bring some home. Maybe Neville would help her cultivate it, his thumb was as green as they came. 

She always had a vivid imagination, and today had supplied her with an abundance of inspiration. The memory of a competent hand gripping hers as they lingered over their farewells and the temperate breeze caressing her through the thinnest of sheets conspired to build a fantasy castle in her mind, founded in her own sensuality. 

The soft sound of a nearby footfall pulled her attention to sharp focus and she sat up. Hermione froze where she was, forgetting to breathe. 

  
  


There, standing in the doorway was Professor Severus Snape. He was leaning against the frame with his dressing gown ( _Green - really Hermione! This is a dream, can’t I be a little more adventurous?_ ) hanging open, framing possibly the most amazing body she’d ever seen ( _Well, okay, imagination. You did make an effort_ ). 

Long and lean, he idly dangled a crystal tumbler of some sort of spirit. Probably whiskey. Or rum? 

_Focus, Granger. This is your fantasy, it doesn’t matter._

[Snaddy's Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25715611) by [LunaP999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaP999/pseuds/LunaP999), _the inspiration for this story. Don't forget to stop by and give her some love!_

Her eyes travelled down the sculpted muscles, her mind piping up with the proper nomenclature before she came to a halt at where what she’d decided was her favourite, _transversus abdominis_ , disappeared into the band of his black boxers. What had Ginny called that delicious curve from hip to groin that was so perfect that it made Hermione ache to explore further with her tongue? Ah, yes. _Cum gutters._

Her lungs began to burn and Hermione sucked in a deep breath, her nostrils filling a new scent mingled with the plumeria. It made her mouth water. 

Fantasy Snape’s muscles rippled as he dipped his head, taking a sip, his eyes watching her over the rim of the glass. 

Hermione’s mouth had gone terribly dry and she was light-headed in a rush of desire. _Merlin, he’s gorgeous. How long have I been holding my breath? Get it together, girl!_

She needed to say something, but she feared that her tongue would clumsily trip and break the moment. This fantasy would devolve to another nightmarish parody of potions classes, and dammit she wanted to enjoy this. 

She’d read magazines and articles online researching ways to attract the attention of men. The trouble was that men did find her attractive... until she started talking. Harry had tried to reassure her that the right man wouldn’t be intimidated, but so far, at age twenty eight she’d yet to find such a man. Horcruxes? No sweat! Took less than a year. 

A man who wasn’t put off by a woman of intellect? Utterly impossible. 

Ginny had jokingly suggested that she try silence. Witches were entitled to their secrets, and letting wizards wonder what she was thinking might help Hermione capture some well-deserved attention. 

The idea never really sat right with her, but perhaps here in the safety of her dream, it might be worth a go?

He’d finished his drink in one swallow, banishing the tumbler with a negligent twist of his magic and flourish of his fingers. It might have been the way his eyes glittered, or perhaps the way her heart stuttered under Fantasy Snape’s intense regard, but Hermione came to a decision. She sat up, and the sheet slid down, exposing the thin cotton shift beneath. 

When he raised one eyebrow in silent askance, Hermione dropped her eyes away for a brief moment, as though she hadn’t decided. A thrill of power energised her as she tossed her hair, unbound for sleep and looked him directly in the eyes. 

The tension between them was intense, but she checked her impulse to go to him. Testing her own appeal, she let her lips curve up in a smile of invitation. 

It worked alright, for he squared his shoulders and let the robe drop to the floor in one fluid motion. He lifted his chin, maintaining eye contact. When he inhaled sharply, her skin came alive, every hair standing up on end as though she’d been blasted with an arctic wind. 

She shivered, only vaguely aware that he was closing the distance. 

When he sat on the edge of the bed, she lost her balance and fell with a gasp of dismay. A strong arm prevented her from falling over completely, hoisting her up and more fully into his lap. 

Snape was laughing silently, and she might have missed the reaction if her face hadn’t been pressed into his chest. His firm, remarkably well muscled chest. 

From this angle, she’d no idea of where it was safe to put her hands, so after a brief hesitation she withdrew, letting her fists rest on her own thighs. 

The warmth of amusement brightened his features, and the faint wrinkles framing those same eyes that had pinned her with the hard stares of challenge over coffee and debate softened. Still trembling she lifted a hand towards his face in wonder. Snape had such an expressive face, although she didn’t think she’d ever seen them like this, almost smiling. 

Feather-light, she made contact with his chin. He lowered his lids in response, and some of the tension bled away from them both. He turned his face into her hand, kissing her palm tenderly.

Hermione’s heart was already fluttering from the nearness of him, his scent reminiscent of warm amber and smoke underneath the sharp haze of alcohol. She was already so incredibly turned on, she was sure she’d soaked her sensible cotton knickers. 

With a low sound of approval, he captured her wandering fingers as they began to tangle in his hair, which was a delight she intended to explore directly.

As if reading her mind, Fantasy Snape spoke, “I am not sure what I’ve done to merit such good fortune, but I will gladly thank any deity who cares to listen for this gift. It would be a shame not to appreciate such beneficence.” He stilled, lowering his lips towards hers. “One might even consider it blasphemy.” He stopped with his mouth but a feather breadth away from her own and asked, “May I partake of this feast?” 

Her heart pounded against her breast, and she could not speak. When he took his next breath, which she intuited would be followed by speech, or moreover an apology, she tilted her head and brushed his lips with her own. 

Fantasy Severus pulled back a fraction to look into her eyes, one corner of his mouth tugging up in a rueful smile before whispering, “Now I see clearly. It is you, my Goddess to whom I owe my praise.” He lowered his lips to hers with more confidence, setting to the task with the single-mindedness worthy of his original. 

As he explored her mouth with lips and gentle tongue, his nose slid against hers, avoiding calamity by accounting for it - turning it into part of the act. 

She parted her lips, welcoming him willingly. Where his skin smelled of tobacco, he tasted sweeter, of honey and spices, with clean undertones of healthy male. 

He was breathing heavily when he broke the connection to say, “These lips this night shall only utter adorations.” 

Emboldened, Hermione levered herself upright and out of his lap. Kneeling beside him she let her hands glide over his shoulders, drinking in the tactile delight of the sparse collection of crisp hair over his chest. 

“You are a wonder. A man could live on your kisses alone.” 

Hermione paused when he trembled. She’d run her nails down his sides, the plane of his abdomen jumping in reaction. He was sitting entirely still one moment, and the next when she’d brushed the waistband of his briefs, he took her hand and pressed it to the swell of his cock. 

“See what power you hold, little muse.” 

Entranced, she gently explored the length and breadth of her personal good fortune, biting her lip in concentration as she dipped her fingers lower to fondle his balls, the surprise of triumph warming her when he closed his eyes and sank back fully onto the pillows. 

He trusted her. 

She focused her attention on the tell-tale dampness of pre-ejaculate on his boxers, evidence of his arousal. He cracked open his eyes, watching her intently as she brought her fingers to her face, studying his scent with a delicate sniff. The stronger notes of tobacco and honey were still there but a floral note hid between them. Not lily, nor the cloying perfume of rosepetals, this was fresher... Iris. 

She had taken too long. “You are so quiet.” He narrowed his eyes and propped himself up on one elbow. “I want to make you sing, to see you fall apart under me.” He tilted his head, causing his hair to fall partly in his face. “Do you want my mouth on you?” 

Her jaw dropped, allowing her tortured lip slip free. Hermione nodded, quickly closing her mouth to swallow. 

He smirked, “And my hands? Would you let me touch you, dance my fingers over your pretty clit and make you writhe in the sweetest of agonies. Shall we exchange pleasure for pleasure and back again?” 

Well, if she hadn’t lost the power of speech already, that would have shorted out the rest of her prefrontal gyrus for sure. She nodded mutely. 

“I am a most fortunate reprobate.”

He surprised a huff of amusement out of her and before she could return to study the catalogue of his virtues, she was distracted by the soft caress of his hand along the outside of her leg. 

She let her eyes flutter shut, focusing on the increasing tension coiling in her most secret of places. It struck her how very aroused she was, although she probably should take credit for this, it being a product of her own mind. That’s what the Sexual Magick column witch had said -- be your own best lover. 

The progress of those talented hands crested above her knee, snagging on the hem of her nightgown. Her breath shortened to quick little gasps of anticipation. The further those fingers travelled, the harder it was for her to breathe.  
  


“Are you the Nimue to my Merlin? I…” His hand stopped at her hip. 

Whatever he was about to say was lost as Hermione’s patience broke. She yanked her nightgown up, arching her back in an effort to get free. The sensible cotton fabric caught in her hair. Disgruntled with her own imagination ( _Why must I be so obsessed with accuracy?!_ ), she gritted her teeth when his hand ghosted up her sides, leaving twinned trails of fire in their wake. 

His voice was rough as he murmured, “May I help you?” 

Hermione tugged and her head escaped its confinement at last, only to be greeted by the sight of her Dream Severus sitting up next to her. His grip on her sides prevented her from toppling over as she wriggled her arms free. Her breath stopped, and she searched his dark eyes for any hint of recognition. 

A witch could fall into Severus Snape’s eyes, lose herself within the ink-black depths completely. No world, no cares, only him. 

He was hypnotizing, and she was caught in his spell. 

She flinched, his grip on her mind loosening when he whispered, “Please?” 

She’d forgotten what the question was, but whatever he wanted, he could have it by all that was magical! 

Misunderstanding her difficulty in formulating a coherent response, he began to pull away. 

Dismayed, Hermione captured one of his hands and pulled it to her face. She nodded once and let the corners of her mouth crook upwards in what she hoped was a charming smile. 

It was his turn, she decided. She turned over his hands, examining them and taking note of the callouses, marvelling at the freedom to touch what she’d only admired from a distance outside of her imagination. The nails were squared and neatly cut short, smooth under her lips as she brushed them lightly with a kiss. 

His lips parted soundlessly. Taking this as a sign of encouragement, she pulled his finger into her mouth, exploring him with her tongue. She watched him, noting how his lids dropped partway closed. He was motionless, statuesque. 

Mind working to decipher the puzzle that was Dream Snape, she sucked lightly on his forefinger, pulling it out of her mouth. His eyes had widened when she applied that pressure. 

Encouraged, she took another of his fingers into her mouth. His skin was a little salty, and she decided she liked it. Letting that finger go, she pressed a kiss to his open palm before letting herself explore down his arm. 

The skin of his inner wrist had less of a taste but was softer and quite smooth under her tongue. He’d made a strangled sort of sound of distress, which caused her to pause and glance back up into his face. He wasn’t looking at her, and his brow was lined with tension. 

_Oh, dear. Dream Severus is broken._ She sighed, her breath tickling over the trail where her lips had been moments before. He shivered, pulling his arm back. 

“I am … not a good man, my Nimue.” The lines on his face spoke of a lifetime of pain, but as he dragged his gaze back to her, there must have been something in her expression that calmed him. 

Hermione leaned closer to him, momentarily worried about her balance on the soft mattress. Daring, she reached up and gently touched his face, exploring the lines of his cheek and brow, trying to soothe away that tension. He was smooth, just as she’d imagined. 

His eyes fluttered shut, and she could feel the muscles of his jaw tighten under her hand. Why was he resisting even now? 

Still roving, her fingers dragged down his neck, over the scars from Nagini. Curious, Hermione lowered her lips and gently kissed his pulse point, finding it fluttering rapidly and as if in answer, her heart clenched within her breast. 

He wasn’t as stoic as he looked. 

Applying pressure, Hermione pulled lightly at the scar with her lips, and to her delight he growled, wrapping his arms around her and bringing her closer. The bare skin of her chest and belly were cool compared to the warmth of his solid body. It felt wonderful, his lightly furred skin against her. 

“Gods! Lowest of villains that I am, I cannot bring myself to deny you.” He lowered his lips to her shoulder. Where she had delicately sampled, he feasted with lips and tongue, nipping and then soothing the sting away.

When he came to the point where her neck met her shoulder, he broke for a moment. “If you are here to entrap me, I won’t fight it. Just permit me the pleasures of your body, something bright to take with me when I die.” 

A whimper of distress escaped Hermione, the first sound she’d made. She bit her lip. Did he really think she would do such a thing?

His mouth was back at her neck, making it harder for her to think. 

“Curse me, kill me...” His mouth hovered so close to her ear, that his hot breath sent shivers down her spine. “Use me, and toss me away if you must.” 

The sting of tears made her blink rapidly and she shook her head. Why would he think that of her? She would never… 

“I will let you. I weary of solitude.” His hands loosened, and he pulled back to look her in the eye. “Make me forget, my Nimue.” 

Those words galvanized her to action. She wasn’t about to sit and weep over the sadness she’d seen in Professor Snape’s eyes earlier that night. Distracted, he’d allowed himself to stare off into the unknown in the midst of the panel they shared. 

Using her legs, she leaned into him, pressing him back into the sheets. Fuck Dumbledore, Tom Riddle, Lily Evans, and every other selfish asshole who’d hurt him. She would not join their ranks. She would show him just how much she admired him. Perhaps, when she woke she could formulate a plan to show Snape that compliments did not always come with barbs attached, and open admiration did not equate manipulation. 

Before he could say anything further, she swung a leg over his hip and straddled him. She could feel his heat through the fabric of her knickers, which were obviously damp. 

As she brushed against his groin, he gasped, pulling his head back. “Fuck, witch!” 

That was much better. Smirking, she settled some of her weight on him, and he groaned, bending his knees, effectively preventing her from sliding down any further. 

Using open hands, she caressed his sides, admiring the ripple of his abdominal muscles. He didn’t squirm much as she let her open palms drink in the feel of his ribs under her hands. She could smell him as she lowered her lips to kiss the flat circles of his nipples. His fingers tangled into her curls as she worked one and the other, licking and sucking until it stood up. 

When Hermione pulled back to blow a chilling breath on the crinkled areola, he tugged her upwards, breaking his contact and settling her above his sharp hip bones. Ignoring the sense of loss reporting back from her groin, she let him pull her down into a kiss and she welcomed him with parted lips. 

The man was as talented with his lips as he was with words, his tongue caressing over hers before he allowed her to explore him in return. 

Dream Severus was as capable of multitasking as the man himself, and when he tugged at her knickers, she obligingly lifted her hips. A whisper of magic, and they were gone. 

The kiss itself intensified, the give and take as stimulating as any debate, although they were both arguing the same side. 

His thighs tensed and for a fleeting moment his cock, encased in silk, nudged up against her. She gasped, breaking the kiss to rock back against his length. 

“I am used to skipping meals, my siren. I intend to savour this one.” 

He’d sat upright, his strong arms supporting her back, and nudging her hair to the side, he turned his attention to the sensitive skin where her jaw met her ear. It felt so good, he felt so good between her legs. 

Chuckling, he rolled them so that now she was on her back, his tall frame braced above. 

Panting, she wriggled in the sheets, arms reaching for him, to gather him closer. She wanted to feel him against her, his weight upon her, surrounding her. 

His hair was soft against her cheek as he nudged, encouraging her to give him access to the other side of her neck, murmuring in her ear, “Laissez-moi vous émerveiller, prendre mon envol.” 

A pulse of pleasure shot through her, from her scalp, straight to the exquisitely sensitive spot deep inside her, the one that few wizards could reach. She let out a soft sigh, closing her eyes. She’d never had a dream as vivid as this, but her sex-starved subconscious was outdoing itself, hitting all of her buttons. 

Dream Snape must have noticed her reaction, she could feel him chuckling, the rushing of blood in her ears obscuring the sound. If a brooding Severus was sexy, a laughing Severus was utterly dangerous. 

She kept her eyes closed, silently hoping that he’d apply his talents and singular attention to her breasts. Her nipples tingled with the thrum of sexual energy that flowed through her. 

_Yes, show me what you can do, oh.. oh please go lower._

As if he could hear her thoughts (which he bloody well should if he was her dream construct) he shifted downward, trailing light kisses over her collar bone. He paused, inhaling deeply. 

_Oh shite. He’s smelling me!_

“A hint of myrrh? Unorthodox for hair, but it suits you, beautiful Nimue.” 

Her eyes shot open in time to see the retreating crown of his head. In the dim light cast by the stars, she could make out a few strands of silver amongst the inky black. 

Before she could reach out in wonder to discover the truth of the texture of his hair, the warmth of a wet tongue spiralling about her outer breast distracted her. She moaned softly, unable to keep to strict silence. 

As he circled, oh so slowly stirring the anticipation, she fought the urge to grab him by the ears and direct him. The pressure between her legs was increasingly uncomfortable, so she wouldn’t have minded if he abandoned his post to go lower. 

While she was busy with these thoughts, he’d shifted his weight so that he could run a gentle hand over her other breast, collecting the scant handful when finally he lightly brushed against her nipple. His lips were gentle, but they may as well have been electrified, for she felt that touch all over. Before she could get a breath he’d latched onto her, pulling and caressing greedily.

_How is it that his feasting makes me hungry?_

Where he’d kissed and licked her breast turned shivery cold, a contrast to the tropical breeze that whispered over her skin carrying with it the mixed fragrance of the brine of the ocean with plumeria. He nipped her playfully with his teeth before letting her left nipple go with a last kiss. Leaving the left bereft, he turned his attention to her right breast. 

She’d read somewhere about orgasms being caused by stimulation in other places in the body. No longer did she doubt the claims that attention to the breasts alone could be sufficient. Open-mouthed and uncaring of what sounds escaped her now, her back arched, tension winding tighter and higher. 

His eyes sought hers, and she fancied that she could feel him smirk against her breast. Wishing to give him some answer, she let her legs fall open and whimpered. She could feel how tight she was, wet with her arousal. 

It felt like a victory when his face registered the change, his eyebrows winging up in surprise, his lips slackening enough to let her breast slip free. 

Not one to let the team down for Snapes everywhere, dream Severus flashed a scimitar sharp grin that promised mayhem. Hands splayed open, he let his fingers drag downwards towards her hips. 

All she could do was watch as he followed with kisses down her belly. With a deep inhalation, he let his eyes flutter close. The tip of his tongue poked out as he wet his lips before whispering “Le festin est sur mon chemin.” When his eyes opened, Hermione’s heart shuddered, for he was looking at her with unmistakable desire. One brow rose in askance. 

_What? Surely he doesn’t mean..._

His fingers caressed her sides, all the while he maintained eye contact. She saw his Adam’s apple bob in a swallow before he whispered, “Puis-je s'il vous plaît?”

Unable to put words together, Hermione nodded enthusiastically. Dream Snape lit up as though she’d given him the keys to heaven. 

Not knowing what to do with her hands, she grasped at the sheets, watching as he nuzzled her inner thighs and settled between her legs. 

Perhaps sensing her tension, he stilled, leaning his head against her trembling thigh and spoke. “Yes, for this I would happily give anything.” She could feel his breath whispering over her mons, tickling her thoroughly dampened curls. 

“Your scent…” He drew in a deep breath of appreciation, “I am such a lucky man.” 

_Circe and her little piglets. He’s going to kill me!_

Hermione let her head fall back on the pillow, focusing on her breathing as he continued to torment her with anticipation. 

“I want to feast on your body, to make it sing, sweet Nimue. Gods, I want to watch you come undone. I shall only then sink into your body.” 

As the words tumbled from his lips, Hermione’s breaths became short and shallow. Her heart was hammering again in her chest, not only from the excitement but the sudden fear that she’d wake up. It would fit the pattern… reality was never this good. She tended to sabotage herself with her brain. 

All coherent thought fled as he gently separated her folds with his fingers and began to explore her with lips, nose, and tongue. Her legs trembled with reaction as he brought her closer, and he encouraged her to rest her legs over his broad shoulders. 

Like actual Severus, Dream Snape was a brilliant man. He was unfailingly observant, and when she cried out or bucked her hips in approval, he made a point of repeating the action and building on it. She was already so aroused that it took remarkably little time before she felt the coil of pleasure gathering at the base of her spine.

The pitch of her cries, which had climbed higher and higher broke into a silent shout as the pleasure broke over her in waves. 

That talented tongue slowed, applying broad pressure, easing her through her ecstasy. When she regained her ability to breathe, she tried to sit up, but he held her firm, pulling her over to the edge of the bed so that he could kneel on the floor.

_Buggering Balthazar, he’s relentless!_

Not content to just ride out the last of her orgasm, Severus shifted his attention lower, dipping his tongue inside of her, applying pressure against the engorged flesh just on the inside of her sensitised quim. 

Falling back to the bed, Hermione fisted the sheets as though her life depended on it. Whatever he was doing made her feel as though she was going to fly away into the atmosphere and she wasn’t entirely certain she was ready for that. 

The pressure changed, and to her alarm, she began to feel like she was about to piss herself. Clenching her eyes and mouth shut against the alien sensation she tightened her legs about his head.

It was the strangest sensation, the pain of holding her water warring with the need for release. 

Perhaps sensing her need for a little more, Severus shifted so that his nose… his glorious, amazingly large and hooked nose rubbed firmly against her clit. That was the push she needed. Her orgasm, stronger than the first ripped, through her with the power of a tidal wave. 

To her embarrassment, a rush of fluid came out of her, no doubt drenching her Dream Severus. This had never happened to her before! 

Limp, weak, and gasping, she tried to lift her head to apologise when it registered that the wizard was lapping it all up with the tender attention one might give a plate with the last crumbs of a favourite dessert. 

It struck Hermione that she’d read about squirting in one of Ginny’s dirty novels. She’d decided that female ejaculation wasn’t a normal or usual outcome. Indeed, she’d never done it in all of the times she’d managed her own completion. Huffing in exasperation at her imagination, Hermione decided she’d not read any more of that tripe, lest she build up expectations that could never be met by a man made of flesh and blood. 

_For that matter, why haven’t I woken up yet?_

Dream Severus interrupted that line of thought when he gently set her legs down with a reverent kiss placed on each knee. ( _Affectionate Dream Snape? What had I imbibed at dinner? Did someone slip me something?_ ) She didn’t hate the idea, but surely her imagination didn’t need to go so out of his character. Disturbed, her conviction that someone had given her something on the sly grew as her Dream lover groaned as he stood up, rolling his shoulders, one at a time. The sight of his lean muscles moving in the dim light of her room wasn’t terrible, although she was definitely going to investigate further. _Later_. 

She was pulled fully back into the dream as the man dropped his silk boxers to the ground with a practised twitch of his hips, freeing the most beautiful cock she’d ever set eyes on. In fact, she couldn’t take her eyes away from where it stood at attention, proud and straight. 

_Oh Merlin. I’ve ruined myself for all men!_

“See something that interests you, Nimue?” 

Unable to speak, yet again, Hermione swallowed and nodded. Was she drooling? Who cares! 

When he moved to sit on the side of the bed next to her, she slid off of the bed and pivoted on her knees, reaching out in fascination. Recalling herself, she hesitated. She should ask permission, shouldn’t she? 

He rescued her from her dilemma by taking her hand in his own and closing the distance. The skin of his shaft was incredibly soft in the palm of her hand. She had some experience with sex, and certainly was not a blushing virgin. He was thick, and no doubt her imagination had decided that noses were definitely a good indication of the _character_ of a man’s dick. 

She smiled inwardly. _Well, I think it suits him_. A man with balls enough to lie to Voldemort deserved a prick that matched. Yes, this dark velvety confection was a reflection of him, the gentle bend in it pleased her eyes, and she hoped that her dream wouldn’t end here. No, she wanted that big beautiful cock inside her, and as soon as possible. 

A crystalline bead of precum formed at the tip, and Hermione, ever inquisitive, dipped her head closer and licked. He tasted of brine, and a subtle sweetness. It was only a drop but in a sense she registered that once again her imagination hadn’t saddled her with a man whose semen tasted of chocolate or some other fanciful notion. 

Still curious, Hermione reached down to investigate further, fondling his scrotum. Biting her lip in an effort to not burst out laughing, for no man (Dream or Living) liked a girl to laugh at his bits. And yet, she had her hand gripping those very admirable testicles, and they were not particularly out of the ordinary. Chiding herself inwardly (For what did she expect? Orders of Merlin pinned to his taint?! Solid gold gonads?), she let her fingers trail lower, following the seam down to the skin just a little further down. 

“Fuck, woman!” 

Tilting her head, she glanced up to find that familiar glare trained on her. The one he used when she showed off in class, once upon a time. 

Seeing that he had her attention, he stilled her hands with his own. “As much as I’d love to have those delightful lips suck me off, I have other ideas for you, little witch. Ones that I think we might both enjoy.” 

Those last words set her disappointment to the side, for she was all for exploring ideas. A burst of affection bloomed in her heart for the brilliant, wicked man. 

At her nod, he drew her into his lap and kissed her. The whiskey overtones were supplanted by what she realised must be the flavour of her own release, clean with a tang and the faintest hint of sugar. 

Cradling her, Dream Severus whispered in her ear. “How shall I take you, enchantress?” 

A shiver of anticipation passed over Hermione, setting the fine hairs along her arms on end. 

“Shall I make tender love to you, slowly drawing out your pleasure until you melt in my arms? Or would you rather I take you fast and hard, fuck you until you shatter?” 

Hermione thought both options were attractive, but it was the deep pitch of his voice as he described the second option that decided her. It was a dream, unlikely to happen ever again. Emboldened, she gripped his face firmly in her hands and bit his lower lip. It wasn’t enough to draw blood, but given the growled response she knew he understood. 

“On the bed, then. On all fours!” 

That particular authoritative tone of voice had her scrambling off of his lap and into position with alacrity, even before it registered that she’d leapt to obey Dream Snape as she had when she was a schoolgirl. 

All thoughts of the classroom evaporated away as she felt his hands adjust her position just so, as though she were part of one of his experiments. She waited, tight as a high E, and was rewarded with the feeling of his heavy member brushing between her cheeks, sliding further forward to rub against her clit. 

Taking a few deep breaths, Hermione steeled herself, expecting that hard and fast he’d promised her in that sinful voice, yet instead she felt a firm, steady pressure nudging at her entrance. 

“Hold still… oh Merlin you feel .. so… ugh…” The words were swallowed in a guttural groan. 

Hermione bit back a cry as he stretched her enough to seat himself partly within her. 

“So hot… so right!” He held still, waiting for some unknown condition to be met and she was in danger of losing her mind. 

Why did she have to be patient in her own dream? 

She wiggled experimentally, extracting a string of what sounded very much like profanity in a harsh Northern tongue. His hair tickled her shoulders as he hunched, fighting her for only a moment. 

Taking the hint, he pressed forward, filling her to the brim with steady force. She breathed slowly, steadying herself as he finally managed to seat himself completely. 

She’d been right, he felt incredible. 

The fit was tight, and she fancied she could feel the throb of his heart through his cock, pounding - strong and sure. She dropped her forehead to her arms and when he still didn’t move she tightened the inner muscles experimentally. 

He growled, “Stop that, you wicked girl, or I will take you over my knee.” 

She couldn’t help it. She’d never tried spanking, but Gods with this man, the very idea was arousing and she couldn’t control it when her walls fluttered in response. 

“I shall overlook it this time, Nimue.” He drew back, but not quite all of the way, and then thrust forwards with enough force to make her squeal. “I told you. I … am … not … a … nice … man.” He used his cock to drive his point home, each word given proper emphasis. 

Hermione didn’t agree but was robbed of the motivation to argue. At first, she was just trying to find a rhythm, shifting her hips backwards until he distracted her by using one hand to tweak at her nipple. She kept her head down, gasping with each thrust. She understood now that he’d started slowly … not to torture her, but to accustom her to his size. Even though he was doing most of the work, she felt sweat trickle down her back. 

He increased his pace and adjusted his angle, allowing him to hit a target that made her see stars with every stroke. She felt her body taking over, her spine drawing back in an arch and holding herself just so because it was absolutely perfect. Just … a … little… more… 

Above her, the wizard ground out in between grunts, “Such a good...” 

She could feel her orgasm building, deep within. She’d only rarely been able to get to this point without clitoral stimulation, but this was her dream, her perfect wizard.

“Little... Witch. So … fucking… perfect!” With that last thrust, his words of praise pushed Hermione over the edge with a silent scream, her body lifting upwards as everything pulsed from her centre outward.

She was dimly aware that Severus’ movements had lost their elegance as she came. With a few shallow thrusts, her dream lover followed her into a mutually sated oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my AMAZING beta, Qdrew. Seriously, girl. I love you to Kona and back. LunaP999 and SnapeLove both alpha-read for me and held my hand as this is new territory for me as a writer. Coromandel is my fragrance consultant (Snape’s scent is Serge Luten Chergui) and brit-picker. To those native to Hawaii, I hope that I do your beautiful home justice. I visited there 20 years ago on honeymoon and it is very special to me. 
> 
> The title of the story, the chapter headings, and anything Snape says in French are all bits from the song Le Festin by Camille. It was the main track for Ratatouille, but is very apt for our Severus. 
> 
> I have not abandoned Beltane Fire, I promise. I've several chapters written and they will be appearing before long. Think of this as a warm-up for Beltane naughtiness. LunaP999's wonderful work grabbed me by the bits and wouldn't let go until I wrote out this story. 6 of 7 Chapters are complete.


	2. Une vie à me cacher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Qdrew beta'd, SnapeLove and LunaP99 alpha'd, and Coromandel did some brit-picking for me. 
> 
> Chapter titles are from Camile's "Le Festin."

Hermione’s eyes cracked open, waking to her hotel room, shrouded in Nyx’s star-studded veil. She’d had the most wonderful dream, no doubt inspired by the singular experience of listening to her old Potions Master give the keynote address. He had a flair for the theatrical, and he used his vocal range with exquisite precision. 

She rolled over onto her back and into an unexpected someone in her bed. That someone did not stir, although she was pretty sure she’d shrieked. 

Fetching her wand from the bedside table, Hermione cast a silent  _ Lumos Minima _ . 

_ OH SHIT. _

There lay one Master Severus Snape, looking deliciously shagged out. Very much not a figment of her own imagination. 

Details of her dream came crashing down on her. His scent, the feel of his cock filling the ache between her legs, the grey hair, the way he gave her three orgasms all while presumably inebriated.

Guilt pooled in her belly, like molten lead. He can’t have known who she was. It was too dark. She should have just told him to go to his own room, or let him have the bed here. She’d taken advantage of him. 

An internal voice, sounding remarkably like her mother whispered,  _ “He seemed to enjoy himself well enough. I’m not getting any younger, pumpkin. I want grandbabies!” _

Shaking her head, she considered her options. 

Of course, she could sneak out and confound one of the hotel staff to switch the rooms and luggage and pretend that it never happened. The thought made her feel ill. Obliviation was right out. She’d never do that again, not after her parents were nearly lost to her in the vastness of Australia. 

She doused the light of her wand, letting herself watch the man sleep. 

It would be cruel to wake him, he had looked so tired over dinner. The time shift could be difficult, but she baffled that he hadn’t taken a potion. Her face split into an amused grin.  _ Apparently not. Unless whiskey counted? _

Sobering, she returned to the dilemma of the moment. Stay or go? 

No, she owed it to him, to be honest. The Professor would never hurt her, not physically or magically. In the time since the war, she found that although he remained aloof and sarcastic, his insults had lost their teeth. 

Besides, had she really done anything so terribly wrong? 

At the very worst, she’d neglected to open her mouth and speak. If she had, he’d have identified here immediately. Strictly speaking, she hadn’t outright lied to him. 

This wicked man had assumed that she was some sort of treat, sent to his room like a bowl of strawberries and champagne on ice, to consume at his leisure. 

_ Except it wasn’t his room.  _

She had to smother a giggle.  _ Merlin, Snape shags like a demon.  _

It would be a shame to wake him. As she let her gaze trace the bare curve of what was most definitely a grade O crack’n arse, Hermione considered what might happen if she did nothing. 

He would leave. Either gracefully or in a rage. 

_ Or.  _

Perhaps she could persuade him to stay? Severus always seemed to hold himself apart, showing up to functions solitary by choice. It wasn’t as though wizards were knocking down her door. 

Her gut wibbled at the thought of inviting this man in her bed on a more permanent basis. 

_ Ah, so that’s how it is. _

She’d grown up, and was NOT his student any longer. She wasn’t going to fall to pieces if he sneered at her. Her career was secure, and if he was so deeply unhappy about it, he only had himself to blame. She had done nothing more than smile. She’d not coerced him, or even attempted to persuade him into her bed. 

_ He practically barged in!  _

Suppressing a sigh, she carefully rolled off of the bed and padded off to the bathroom to survey the damage. Her bladder at the very least would not permit her to wallow in her indecision a moment longer. 

* * *

The door to the lavatory snicked shut. Severus cracked open an eye cautiously. 

He had been enjoying a few fingers of a particularly fine whiskey given to him by the Society as a thank you for his work. He’d indulged a whim, taking a turn about the moonlit courtyard, enjoying the warm air and letting the woes of the day evaporate in the tropical night. 

When he’d returned, his key didn’t work, which was a minor inconvenience. It took remarkably little effort to overcome the security charms on the door. 

There was a woman in his bed, a marvel of sweetness and soft curves. A beautiful and obliging witch, who’d smiled and welcomed him into her arms. Artlessly intoxicating, and now that he pondered the subject he realised that she was not a professional. She hadn’t the polish. 

_ I made assumptions.  _

He’d thought she’d come to warm his bed. He winced at the male arrogance of such a preposterous notion.

_ Why hadn’t I been thinking clearly? _

Might there have been a lingering effect of that potion they’d demonstrated for him at dinner? It was a modified version of a Draft of Clarity, but the little shit had neglected to mention that he’d added a measure of liquid luck, whose presence was obvious once it hit his tongue. It was like guzzling live bees. 

Under its influence, he’d seduced this woman right in her own bed. 

He cringed inwardly. She couldn’t have recognised him, although he’d done most of the talking. She hadn’t said a word the entire time. A feeling of masculine pride softened the sting of his guilt as he recalled that she was quite vociferous as she writhed in passion. The witch had enjoyed herself. 

No actual words, however. Did she not speak English? He’d uttered a few phrases of lyrical French. She seemed to understand him perfectly. 

_ Who is she?  _

The latch to the bathroom turned, giving him just enough time to shut his eyes. 

He would let the witch lead. If she hexed him, he would accept the consequences. Severus Snape might be a bastard, but he was never one to shirk on responsibility. 

_ If Varga explained to her what happened, would she understand?  _

A traitorous little voice in the back of his mind whispered,  _ “Lady Luck brought you here. What makes you so certain that the little witch will be angry?”  _

He tried to focus on making sure his breathing was shallow and even, although he was blown away by the next logical question.  _ “What if she actually wants you? _ ” 

It was all he could do to remain outwardly unaffected.  _ Preposterous. _ The potion must have worn off by now, he would never be so lucky. 

What witch would want the pale, pasty, unpleasant, impatient, traitorous bat of the dungeon? His years of teaching had soured most of the UK against him and his reputation was widely known the world over. No one believed anything else of him, so it was easy just to keep up appearances. He was tired of it, right down to the marrow.

The image of the saucy little witch smirking up at him from between his knees floated in his mind’s eye.  _ There’s a pretty picture.  _

Nearby the mattress shifted, so he forced his mind to go blank, focusing on maintaining the facade of sleep and the quiet woman next to him. 

Minutes ticked by, and after she settled and her breathing evened out to the soft cadences of sleep, Severus cracked an eye open with caution. There on the pillow next to him lay the unmistakable Miss Hermione Granger. 

Stunned, he stared for a long time. Only when she shifted onto her side with a quiet whimper did he blink and the gears in his mind ground back into motion. 

He was alarmed when she cried out again.  _ Great Agrippa’s ghost! Did I hurt her? _

Glad that she was facing away from him now, he risked a glance -- only to discover that she was completely naked.  _ Merlin’s beard! _

She fretted, restlessly twisting in the sheets before abruptly settling, curled up on her side and facing him. 

At a loss as to what to do, Severus pulled the sheet up over her hips, thinking that might soothe her. He couldn’t see her face through her curls, but he dared not touch her. 

Ten minutes later she began crying in her sleep in earnest, and he could decipher words. “No.. please. I didn’t! We found it… please!” 

Frowning, Severus reached towards Hermione, intending to jar her out of the nightmare. 

Not cooperating with his plan, she turned her back to him and in the process knocked into his hand. 

He froze, waiting for her to wake and start hexing and shouting in earnest, but the attack didn’t come. Instead, Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled it around her waist, using it to reel him in closer. 

It wasn’t immediately clear to him if Lady Luck intended to bless or curse him, but Severus was inclined to believe the former when Miss Granger grumbled under her breath, and then pressed the length of her bare body up against him. 

Her hair tickled his nose, but he couldn’t bring himself to dislike the sensation. Her scent drifted over him: wood resin and clay mingled with the tang of fresh figs. Severus relaxed, gently daring to rub his nose into her soft curls. A wizard could get quite comfortable, wrapped up in such a witch. He pushed away a dull ache of grief. She wasn’t really his to care for or to appreciate, but it would be boorish to the extreme to leave her like a thief in the night, alone with her nightmares. 

Surrendering his life to the fickle hands of fate, Severus shut his eyes and drifted off to sleep surrounded by the mingled scents of plumeria and myrrh. 

  
  


* * *

Hermione’s mind woke slowly, her awareness of the situation creeping into her consciousness with the languid pace of the sun cresting the Pacific horizon. 

She felt good, although a trifle sore. Solid and steady was the warmth of a wizard resting at her back, his solid arm curved about her waist, his hand tucked under her breast. 

_ It wasn’t a dream. It is really him.  _

Carefully she leaned, pressing the curve of her back more snuggly into his chest. A surge of triumph pushed her worry to the side as she encountered the firm length of the man’s erect cock, nudging her backside. 

Cautious, she stilled, listening to the quiet of the room, focusing on the rise and fall of Severus Snape’s bare chest at her back, his breath in her hair. 

When he didn’t wake, she considered her options. 

She’d wanted to get another taste of the dour man’s delectable cock, but he’d pushed her to her breaking point, distracting her from the goal with his terribly sexy voice and sneaky ways. 

It seemed too much of a risk to move away from his embrace for there was some comfort to be had in the limited anonymity that she still enjoyed. So long as she didn’t speak, and he could not see her by the light of day she could remain his fantasy witch, his Nimue. 

There was an advantage to be had, she reasoned, if she could make absolutely certain that he was in a good mood. He’d not had his wand on him, after all. 

_ Well, only the wand he was born with, pressing so enchantingly against my bum.  _

Biting her lip, lest she give herself away with an inane giggle, she reminded herself that she had the advantage, for was still in possession of her wand. She’d made sure of it as she slipped back into bed last night. 

Also, she already knew his identity. 

This gave her a moment’s pause. He was still here, wasn’t he? Had he woken in the night, or was he so drunk that he’d yet to wake? 

_ What to do, what to do…  _

The ache between her legs was not only a reminder of what had already transpired but also of reawakened arousal. Her body was voting for a recap of last night’s activities. She was two orgasms ahead, by her count, and that meant it was her obligation to catch him up. 

_ It is the right thing to do. No, it has nothing to do with my insatiable appetite for this wizard.  _

Experimentally, she shifted, bending her back in an effort to coax his cock to slide between her legs. It was making her wet, just thinking about it. 

His breath heated the back of her neck with a deep sigh, and she stilled, only having partly succeeded in her goal. Merlin, she hoped he was still asleep, but by Nimue she wished more fervently that he would get his big beautiful cock inside her already! 

The well-muscled arm that was draped over her waist lay heavily on her, and did not move in spite of what she was trying to do. 

Counting to five, Hermione closed her eyes and tried again. This was possibly one of the most erotic things she’d ever done, and she had to bite down harder on her lip to stop a needy whimper from disturbing him as she finally managed to get him into position. 

Emboldened by her success, she lifted her hip, opening herself wider, wordlessly inviting him to sink deeper. 

Obligingly, he eased tortuously slowly into her, his thickness stretching and filling her to the brim. 

Her heart raced as she kept herself absolutely still. The moment was bittersweet, for as much as she didn’t want this to stop, the truth would out in the end. How could this unobtainable man feel so right with his cock nestled right up against her womb? 

Turning her head into the pillow, she forced herself to breathe away her worries slowly. It was taking a huge effort on her part to remain absolutely motionless. 

It was no use. Her thigh trembled with the effort of staying still and her body gripped him in a pulse of reflexive pleasure. 

The wizard buried inside of her stirred to life. A sharp intake of breath was the first sign, and she kept her face against the pillow. The strong arm that had held her in a loose embrace pulled her closer, changing the angle of his first conscious thrust. 

_ Oh Gods, oh thank you… Oh!  _

He moved his hand, smoothing over the quivering muscles of her hip, pulling her leg back further to rest on top of his own, massaging away the burn the futile effort of remaining stock still had cost her. 

Unable to stop herself, she cried out in wordless approval, her pitch climbing as the sensations built with every pass of the head of his dick rolling past the tight muscles just inside of her quim. 

His breaths sounded in her ear in quiet grunts, which resolved into broken words. “Such a pleasant way… to wake. Nimue, my seductress.” 

She wanted him to speed up, to move deeper, but he had other ideas. Caressing lightly, he followed the swell of her hip and down over her belly, making her shiver in anticipation. 

Determined to torture her, that talented hand slipped further upwards to fondle her breasts. Finding the already hard tips, he gently pinched and pulled at one, and then rolled the other methodically. All the while, Severus’ hips continued thrusting, drawing her higher and higher with a tortuously slow tempo rivalling that of a drunken Peer of the Realm belting out God Save the Queen. 

“Oh! Please!” She’d broken her silence, babbling, “Please, I need it, I need…” 

Not breaking his rhythm, he reached up and moved her hair aside, allowing him to kiss at the nape of her neck. As she wriggled in delight, he encouraged her to further speech, his low timbre driving her closer to madness. “Name it, and if it is in my power, it is yours. What do you need, sweetest of women?” 

It was all becoming too much, too overwhelming; the gentle waves of pleasure exquisitely washing over her skin, traveling from toe to tit, the beat reminiscent of the calm waters, lapping at the white sands of the beach only a few yards away. 

She was convinced that this would be her last chance with him so she held fast to the moment, the crushing desperation for release juxtaposed against her fear that everything would be over all too soon. 

Throat dry from the effort and tight with emotion, she croaked. “You, I need you, S...Severus!” 

Immediately, a crystal of fear formed in her chest, whipping her already galloping heart into a full sprint. She tensed, waiting for his reaction. 

His hips didn’t break the rhythm, maintaining the infuriatingly steady, unhurried pace. His breath warmed the back of her neck, his mouth occupied with mapping out the lines of her shoulders, leaving a path of mingled sting and pleasure with lips and teeth. 

She wasn’t sure how much more she could take, for she balanced at the edge and he was holding her there, keeping her from toppling over into the release that she craved. No, she was convinced that he was going to become frustrated if she took much longer, wasn’t he notoriously short-tempered? Or was that just with her? She couldn’t decide. On impulse, she reached down, intending to get her fingers on her clit. 

Fast as a striking snake, Severus captured her wrist in his hand and she froze. A hiss of warning came from the wizard behind her, her neck feeling bereft as he broke away to speak in a dangerously low timbre, “Naughty, naughty. Mustn’t touch.” 

Dimly, her rational self bristled with indignation.  _ Why would he deny me this _ ? The rest of her was swirling with a cacophony of emotions which could be neatly divided into two camps: The desperate need to climb higher and never let this end versus terror that it would end too soon and badly. 

As if reading her mind, Severus let go of her wrist and began to stroke her side, starting at her waist, down as far as he could over her hip before circling back upward to her belly to lightly brush the soft curve of her breast before pulling back and down her side once more. 

After the second pass, she began to calm under his hands. 

After the fifth, she let her shoulder and neck relax, tension bleeding away from everywhere but between her legs. 

Faithfully he kept to the leisurely pace, and out of the corner of her eye she admired the smooth rolling movement of his hips. His breathing was even, merciful Gods, had he even built up a sweat? She focused her attention on his hand, appreciating the fine lines of his fingers as he yet again moved to tease her breasts by barely skimming the soft skin there before moving away. Restless, wanting more, she moved to entwine her fingers with his, seeking to redirect him to the needy ache of her inflamed clit, as bold as brass. 

“Shh, my Nimue. I have you.” 

He’d reduced her to a pile of aroused witch, and she was hard-pressed to recall what she wanted to say or do. She let go of his hand with a whimper of confusion. 

“As you well know, I have opinions on how things should be done. Strong ones, you see. I approach lovemaking much like I do brewing.” 

“Oh…” The word slipped out of her mouth, but before she could try again, he grasped behind her knee and pulled her leg up. That changed the angle of his thrusts, increasing the pressure and focusing it on the forward wall of her vagina. It was like he’d poured firewhiskey directly inside of her, and she was ready to burn. 

Through her renewed gasps, she could hear as he continued his monologue. “Any woman will transcend from mortal flesh to divine under the care of an inspired lover. Few wizards have what it takes to effect this miracle, for it is a subtle discipline, requiring patience and keen skills of observation.” 

Hermione closed her eyes, shutting out the meaningless distractions of the world outside of her bed. 

“It is an art, although few are willing to believe that there is more to sexual prowess than the size of their pricks. Those cretins can never appreciate the beauty of a woman such as yourself, brought alive with the flush of arousal, her lips swollen with the crush of a kiss, slick with the proof of her desire. They shun what ought to be worshipped with all our senses.” 

His voice was so beautiful to her, a wonder of texture and lyrical words. She wanted him to keep going. 

“The scent of your nectar, the taste of you lingers on my lips and makes me hungry for more.” In illustration, he inhaled deeply, his nose bending closer to her neck. “You have a particular perfume, potent and sexual. I would know it anywhere.” 

She hadn’t thought it possible, but he was playing her like an instrument. Her thighs were turning to wood, paralyzed by the intense ripples of pleasure caused by each steady, uninterrupted stroke. Obedient, her breaths were taken in time to his steady beat, each accompanied by a sigh of winding tension. 

“I am enthralled by the sounds you make with that clever mouth as your body responds to me. You have bewitched me so completely that it is all I can do to hold onto my wits. You have sunk into my skin, set me ablaze!” Severus was having a harder time of it and grunts of effort punctuated his recitation. 

She was glad that she was not alone in her need, for she craved the shared and thereby multiplied rapture of intimacy with this wizard, and only him. If she was in his skin, then he boiled through the blood in her very veins. She was unravelling at the seams, spots floating in front of her eyes.

“I will never enter heaven but oh.. Nimue! This bed is near enough to paradise for me. Your generous heart, the kindness with which you’ve welcomed me into your arms has made me curse my own wickedness and yet I will never turn you away.” 

Never in her entire life had a man spoken to her in such a way. Tears leaked from her closed eyes as her voice climbed higher, wordlessly begging for more. The tension spread from her core to the base of her spine, bending her backwards. Sensing the change, her lover held firm, stubbornly maintaining the slow pace, murmuring encouragement, “Let go, my Nimue. I’ll catch you…” 

The force of her orgasm crashed through her, her cry cut off as her consciousness stopped for a pure moment of absolute bliss. She couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or shut for everything had gone completely white. Her magic, usually only visible when she was angry, sparked and crawled over her skin as wave after wave of bliss blasted away Hermione’s last vestige of coherent thought. 


	3. La fête va enfin commencer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qdrew is my beta, and LunaP999 and SnapeLove alpha read for me. Coromandel helped with brit picking.

Severus Snape was never the sort of wizard to brag. Those who did were often all mouth and no trousers. Still, as he shifted in the bed, his cock still rock-hard and entrenched inside of Hermione Granger, he couldn’t help but bask in the glow of masculine smugness as the last waves of her orgasm faded, leaving her limp and sated. 

He’d managed to wipe that brilliant mind clear of all thought and was determined to do it again, denying himself his release -- a discipline he perfected through study and extensive practise. 

Wanting to get a better look at the effects of his handiwork, he carefully eased her onto her back. It wasn’t possible to do this without sliding out of her, and he gathered her back into his arms in a position more suited for true lovers. She was all agreeable softness and a strange tenderness tied him in knots, as though he’d a lump in his throat. 

His cock was still quite hard, and he craved the closeness he’d sampled when he was seated within her, the head of it nestling itself between her folds, still wonderfully slippery with the evidence of her arousal. As if she’d heard him thinking, Hermione hummed groggily and pulled her knee up of her own accord, tilting her pelvis just enough for him to slide back home into her warmth. It took a moment’s meditation to master his urge to move. He was afraid that he’d shock her or hold her too roughly. 

Hermione pulled him closer with a pleased hum, reminiscent of a cat’s purr. Severus’ heart stuttered when she nuzzled her sweat-dampened curls into his cheek and slurred, “Sev’rus.” 

Shutting his eyes, he pulled her closer, tucking her head under his chin, a move which neatly prevented the clever witch from seeing his face when she returned to full awareness. He was principled enough to deny himself, but he was still a man. It felt incredibly right to hold her even as she held him, a rare pleasure.

He couldn’t be sure how long they’d lay together like that before she began to stir. He’d gone soft, a predicament of which he was only distantly aware. When she whispered his name again, his cock came back to attention within her heat, to which she responded with a delightful squeak. 

It was now or never. 

“Nimue. I cannot help but wonder how you happened to choose this particular guise to wear for your seduction.” 

The witch tensed in his arms, and he fancied that he could hear the machinery of her mind grinding back into action, from “out of service” to “what the fuck.” 

Carefully, he stroked her back and continued to speak. He needed to make sure she didn’t get a chance to answer, at least not yet. 

“I’ve never spoken of my attraction to Hermione Granger to anyone. At first, I wondered if perhaps someone managed to slip me a potion. This scenario is unlikely, as I am… me.” 

She remained absolutely still. The warmth of her breath tickled his neck, and he pressed on. “Perhaps a clever inventor has managed to perfect aerosolized potions, and administered it as I passed.” He paused for effect before rubbing his chin lightly over the top of her head. “But I have to discount that idea as well, for the art is still very new and there is a particular aftertaste associated with the base most commonly used.” He filled his lungs, taking in her scent more fully. “I doubt I would have missed that either. Which leaves you, little witch.” 

Silence. He regretted the necessity, but the game must be played. 

"I fear for the general public if this experimental predictive glamour you're wearing falls into the wrong hands. Would anyone leave their beds if a third party willingly transformed into the sexual partner they secretly desired? The lure of Essence of Erised would destroy the foundation of marriages, one partner’s affections shifting unerringly to the unobtainable, the one who got away.” 

That goaded her. “But…” 

Cutting her off with a mirthless laugh, he answered. “You expected to transform into Lily Evans? Well, I cannot blame you. The history books have no qualms in airing my own pathetic history with Potter’s mother.” 

Hermione was silent. Stunned, perhaps? He dare not look. Not yet. 

“I have no wish to dwell on that common misconception, although if it helps, I excuse you. Not many can see past Granger’s hair and her history in the war. ” He let his admiration for her warm his tone, “In that respect, we are kindred spirits.”

As he spoke, he paid attention to the witch’s reactions. He had to hand it to her, she’d matured enough to be able to maintain her silence while skewered on his cock.

“There was a time I’d thought she was destined to marry one of the Weasleys. Failing that, I have heard rumours, no doubt twisted from truth to tabloid-worthy sensation.” He sniffed derisively. “Faithless men, no doubt delusional and digging for leverage over Potter. But I digress.” 

“It will take a wizard of high calibre to fully appreciate her virtues.” Unsure of her reception, he continued to slowly stroke her back. “She was well sorted into Gryffindor. Her heart is worthy of the Lion, fiercely courageous and loyal. Her advocacy work in the early Reformation of the Ministry has changed relations between magical peoples and wizards. I would never tell her this to her face, but the overhaul of Werewolf legislation she accomplished with Scamander was pure political genius.” He purposefully gentled his tone as he added, “Her sense of justice and generosity also had the interfering witch meddling in my personal affairs. She thought she’d kept it from me, but Shacklebolt shared with me how much she and Potter both contributed to the defense that ultimately secured my exoneration and my freedom.” 

The little witch in his arms gasped. 

Deliberately misinterpreting, he said, “Yes, you see that I have been honest. I really am not a nice man. If I were, I’d have at least shown her some measure of my gratitude.” He tilted his head. “Maybe someday I will.” 

“Stop, please. Severus!” 

An edge of irritation leaked into his tone as he admonished the woman. “No, I don’t think I will, temptress. You have come to my bed wearing her face, and you need to understand what you have done.” 

She tried to pull away, but he held her fast, reminding her of the intimate nature of their embrace with a subtle shift of his hips and a low growl. “I am not finished with you yet, little witch. I have had my say, and now I will demonstrate to you the full measure of my passion for Hermione Granger until I am satisfied that you possess a deep, carnal understanding.” 

“Unngh…!” The little witch’s eyes had gone wide, and in full reverse, she grabbed onto his shoulders. 

He smirked. “You like that idea, do you? I am well disposed to you. After all, if I’d not been hopped up on Varga’s ridiculous Draft of Clarity, I might have not understood the possibilities hidden under Granger’s robes. Yes, I thought her attractive, but … now? The lucky wizard who wins her heart will have such a paradise of delights to enjoy.” 

Running his hands down her side, he hooked an arm under her leg and began fucking her. 

“You need not worry, for I cannot be angry with you. No, you have given me such pleasure, and in turn, I promise to take care of you, Nimue. You have allowed me to explore Granger’s secrets and I am not one to waste such a golden opportunity.” 

As he bucked his hips against hers, he could feel her back begin to bend, her head lolling to the side, and mouth open in the perfect O of the enthralled. 

In retrospect, he was already halfway in love with her well before he set foot in Hawaii.

Had it not been for that blasted Journeyman Varga and his addition of Liquid Luck to his Draft of Clarity, he would have remained blind to her charms as a woman. 

_ So much lost time. _

A woman who now both held his heart in her delicate fist and his livelihood buried deep within the slick heat of her pussy as she consumed him whole. 

Burning with the desire, he bent his head, finding and latching onto her breast, suckling the pink flesh to a stiff point, which he gently took between his teeth. With a shriek of delight, she bucked in the throes of orgasm, the pressure pulsing around him made him see stars. 

He continued to move with her through the spasms, determined to take them both higher. He’d nearly lost control just then, his preoccupation with her tits providing just enough of a distraction. Already she was coming back down, her lungs pulling deeper breaths in the pre-dawn light as she clung to him. 

Raising up on his knees, he sought better leverage, burying himself impossibly deep. “Gods, Hermione. We fit … so perfectly.” He shifted, pressing her harder into the mattress. 

Babbling nonsense, she planted her heels in the mattress, meeting him thrust for thrust. Her brow was beaded with sweat, her curls falling back to reveal the brightness of her eyes, the flush of her skin that extended down her neck. She was beautiful, and in having her, his hunger for her only intensified. Hermione Granger wasn’t just a midnight snack. She was a five-course meal. 

His voice was rough as he gasped, “Never! I don’t think I could ever get enough...” He couldn’t maintain the facade any longer. 

When she’d called his name so prettily this morning, he began to hope that she just might find room in her life and her bed for a miserable bastard like Severus Snape. Merlin help him. “I’d do anything to make this dream a reality.” 

“Please! Please… Severus. Oh! More!” 

Hooking an arm below her other knee, he chased after their pleasure. A twist of his hips had him aiming for, and if the change in her hoarse screams was any indication, he’d found the angle she needed. 

“Keep... THAT, oh! Oh!” A heaviness in his balls warned him that he was close. He wasn’t made of stone, and Hermione writhing underneath him and calling out his name was the sexiest thing he’d ever known. 

The little witch was strong, and she clung to him tightly as she fell over the edge, and in turn, her ecstasy broke his iron control. Severus made it another two thrusts before he came undone, pouring himself into his dream woman with a wordless cry. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Hermione was trapped. 

Trapped between her conscience and her sense of self-preservation. 

More immediately, she was pinned down by the weight of a spent wizard and needed to pee. 

It wasn’t difficult to disentangle her legs from where he’d hiked them up to her chest. The problem was that in so doing, he’d lost the nominal support of his arms, leaving him to slump like a sack of grain. 

She squinted, hoping to see some sign of a return to consciousness under the curtain of his hair. “Severus.” 

He didn’t move, so she tried to sit up, shifting his weight off of her chest. 

The awkwardness of the situation struck her with the full force of inane hilarity. The dour Potions Master and Double Agent lay with his head pillowed on her breast with the expression of a resting babe, complete with slack mouth and drool. 

She fought valiantly to control herself. Really, she did. 

The violent shuddering of her belly gave her away as she giggled silently into her fist. 

“Hnnh?” Severus Snape scowled in his sleep. 

Swallowing thickly with a thrill of anxiety, she willed herself still. The peace only lasted a moment, regrettably. The spell was broken when he let out a loud snore. 

Giving up, she let herself laugh.

Smacking his lips, he turned his head to the side. The snoring stopped but Severus did not move. 

“Severus. Get off.” 

She knew he could hear her, because his arm moved, holding her tighter. Sitting up slightly, she eyed the narrow strip of bed on her lover’s other side. If he was anyone else, she’d have dumped him on the floor and been done with it. 

The pressure in her bladder was getting worse. This wasn’t funny anymore. She reached down and shook him. “Let me up, I have to piss and I’d rather not do it in the bed.” 

Severus grumbled, “Do one.” 

“I would if you would bloody well get off of me!” She used her legs, bracing a foot in the bend of his hip and shoved, “Look alive!” 

Too late, the wizard perceived his danger. Unfortunately for Hermione, he managed to grab her and pull her down off of the bed with him, onto the wood floor where they both landed with a loud thump. 

Taking advantage of her topmost position and Severus’ confusion, Hermione slipped out of his grasp and sprinted for the loo with all of the speed of a terrified student who’d just managed to prank Professor Snape. After she slammed the door, she called a perfunctory, “Sorry!” and took care of business. 

She dallied over fixing her hair and brushing her teeth, trying to get up the nerve to march back out there and stand her ground. With foresight for moments such as this, the hotel had provided a white cotton robe, which she wrapped around herself, feeling akin to St George suiting up for battle with his dragon.

Whatever she had expected, it was not an unruffled Severus Snape seated at an elegantly appointed table burdened down with the best that the hotel had to offer in-room service, leafing through… “Is that my programme?”

He lifted a single eyebrow in acknowledgement. “You tell me, Nimue.” 

Use of that name took the steam out of her ire. Looking for any other distraction, she approached the table. “This is an amazing spread.” 

“Only the best, for you, lovely woman. I simply charged it to the room tab.” 

Hermione’s knees wobbled as she did a mental tally, “You didn’t.” 

“We need to keep up our strength.” Whipping out a serviette that had been artfully folded into the shape of a cephalopod, Severus placed it over his lap. “Champagne?”

Hermione collapsed into a chair, watching in shock as the professor poured a week’s salary into a glass and offered it to her. 

Shaking her head, Hermione said, “No thank you. I don’t think I have the taste for it.” 

“At least have some fruit. You won’t want to attend the conference on an empty stomach.” 

Ignoring the trembling of her hand, Hermione transferred the elaborately folded serviette that had been impersonating a sea turtle into her lap. Not wanting to risk a spill, she pulled out her wand, letting magic be mother. Heartened by getting that right at least, she helped herself to some pineapple and a slice of toast -- properly cold. 

She watched the wizard out of the corner of her eye warily as she sipped her tea. 

They passed what felt like hours in a tense silence when Severus let out a put-upon sigh. “You’re quiet.” 

“I... have nothing to say.” She winced inwardly at the miffish tone in her own voice. Reality had come crashing down, blowing her dream castle to ash. 

Churlish, Severus took up his examination of her programme once more. “I find that exceedingly difficult to believe.” 

She was sore. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally. Most of all, she didn’t want to have this conversation. Hermione’s heart ached in anticipation of what she was sure would be the killing blow. 

Just then, her carry-all, which was set on a chair between them began to play the unmistakable ringtone of her parents favourite chat programme. Privately, Hermione thought it sounded like someone had managed to mate elevator muzak synthesized with the disgusting sounds that Ron made with a straw at that terrible fast food restaurant his kids were so fond of.

Severus frowned at her in annoyance. That did the trick, galvanizing her to action. Maybe if threatened with the chatter of her parents, Stormcloud Snape would bugger off. 

As she cleared a space at the table and opened her laptop, Severus coughed, “Look, maybe you should…” 

Taking pleasure in her defiance, Hermione answered the call. “Hi, Mum.” 

“Good morning, poppet! How’s the Island…” Jeanne Granger paused mid-query and leaned closer to the screen. “Well, I see you’ve been busy!” 

“What?” Hermione’s eyes tracked over to the very small square that framed her own picture. She didn’t see anything obviously amiss. 

A wide grin spread across her mother’s face. “Henry! Come look at this! Your daughter has been having a very good time…” To Hermione’s deep embarrassment, her mother sang out the last phrase. 

The vaguely bulldoggish face of Henry Granger floated into view. “By George! What brute did that to you?” 

A peal of amused laughter crossed the distance and Hermione finally understood. Severus Snape had left love bites all up and down her neck. 

“There have been some interesting presentations…” 

“Oh ho!  _ Interesting _ . Tell Mummy, did you manage to ask that dishy Septimus Snake out for a drink? I’m not getting any younger!” She was disgustingly saccharine. She’d have given Umbridge a run for her money if there was a contest for skills at rotting teeth with one’s voice alone. 

“Jeanne, we can buy tickets and be out there in less than a day. I need to have a WORD with whoever did that to our…” 

Hermione gave up and buried her face in her hands. Her entire life was a joke. She was going to die right here and now, of embarrassment at the age of 28. 

A shadow fell over her shoulder. “Greetings, Mr and Mrs Granger. It must be what.. 7PM there?” 

Missing only a few beats, Mum picked up the loose thread of the conversation before the entire thing unravelled. “I recognise you. Professor Snape, isn’t it?” 

Hermione splayed her fingers, daring to peek at the screen. It was gratifying to see that she wasn’t the only Granger who was deeply embarrassed by the situation. 

Her father grumbled, “Having a GOOD morning are you?”

To his credit, Severus stood his ground, leaning on the back of her chair as to stay in the frame. He was wearing the green dressing gown, but it didn’t do much to cover him up. “Why yes I am.” Severus held up his flute of champagne in a mock toast, “Thank you, sir.” 

“Ooooh, I do hope you make time to visit us in the near future. You two would make the most adorable children. I can just see the little darlings now, black curls and porcelain cheeks.” 

Hermione swallowed, meeting the very small picture of Snape’s eyes in the screen as they slid to her in alarm. She shook her head once, not wanting to discuss her use of a contraceptive potion in front of her Dad. 

“Now see here…!” She recognised that tone. Her father used it when he was very disappointed in her, or if the restaurant had overcooked his steak. 

Jeanne Granger’s bright voice interrupted. “Oh, look Henry. We’re about to tick over five minutes. We wouldn’t want to incur a charge…” The camera view shifted to a close up of her mother. 

“Now you two kids just enjoy yourselves! Drink some fruity cocktails and take in the local cuisine, and don’t forget to dance under the stars! I am quite envious of you both; to be young and in love in Hawaii!” Hermione couldn’t help but return her mother’s smile. Jeanne Granger had a way of packing all of her love and goodwill into her diction. Hearing her voice was almost as good as getting a hug, and Hermione let herself pretend for a moment that everything would be well. 

“Thanks, Mum and Dad. I love you…” 

Off-screen her father groused, “Did you see that overbite? I’d love to get him in my chair…” 

Blanching, Hermione jumped up and closed the laptop, that being the swiftest way of ending the call. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and then let it out in what she hoped was a quiet sigh. 

Severus... No. Professor Snape was closer behind her than she’d expected, and she nearly jumped out of her skin when he spoke softly. “She’s right, you know.” 

“Rubbish! There isn’t a fee for minutes. She just said that so Dad wouldn’t say something unforgivable.” Tears stung at the corners of her eyes. 

A cool hand gently closed around hers. “No. She’s quite perceptive. At least for my part.” 

Hermione turned slightly, trying to decide what to think. Silences, Hermione. Let him say what he has to say. 

Bringing her hand up to his mouth, he grazed her knuckles with his soft lips, maintaining eye contact. “I am falling for you, Hermione.” His mouth quirked into a wry grin, “Although I don’t know about that request for babies. I think we should make her wait, see to what length she’s…” 

Hermione pulled her hand away with a sob, and fled in a flurry of confusion. There wasn’t much to her suite, but she felt safest settling herself on the far side of the room. How long had he known it was really and truly her and not abit of skirt sent to warm his bed? He wasn’t the least bit rattled when he stepped in to introduce himself to her parents! 

_ Oh Merlin _ , _ he knew! _

All of the emotional tension that she’d been holding in burst out of her in a torrent of tears. 

After a few minutes in which he kept a respectful distance, Severus moved cautiously into her field of view. His voice was soft as he said, “I realise that this all must seem very sudden...” 

She looked up at him for a brief moment and waved a hand, still not able to get control of her diaphragm. 

“But last night, when I awoke and discovered that it was you in my arms…” He was looking at her with steady confidence, his expression open. 

Cursing her weak control over her emotions, Hermione wiped at her eyes with the cuff of the hotel’s terry gown. 

“I had the revelation that this... what happened between us… wasn’t wholly by accident. Recall, Journeyman Varga insisted that I try his variation of the Draft of Clarity.” 

Hiccuping, Hermione nodded, which was the best she could do to hold up her side of the conversation under the circumstances. 

“I intend to have strong words with him later on the subject, but suffice it to say that he’d added a dram of  _ Felix Felicis _ . It was Felix who brought me to you.” 

Forcing herself to take deep breaths, Hermione ignored the tears streaking down her face. She’d probably gone all blotchy. Why couldn’t she get a grip?

“I am going to have to get the little shit something nice as a thank you. He changed  _ everything. _ Never before would I have dared to imagine that you, Hermione Granger, might welcome my attention, much less return affections of a sour wretch like myself. You are so brilliant, so lovely, so good.” 

The hiccups were passing off, leaving her gulping for air. She needed to answer him, to show him how she felt, that he wasn’t alone any more… that she wanted him -- rough Snape-ish edges and all. 

His striking face came into view as he levered down on one knee before her. “Are my hopes answered, my Nimue? Are you willing to give me a chance... Hermione?” 

Unwilling to leave her wizard in doubt, Hermione’s smile broke through her tears with all of the fierceness of the love and pure joy in her heart. 


	4. Car rien n'est gratuit dans la vie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus and Hermione surface at the conference, and then skive off. LE GASP.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Readers, this chapter has no lemons and is transitional. Hopefully, it amuses you anyway. 
> 
> Thanks to Qdrew for beta-ing and to Luna and SnapeLove for alpha reading.

Severus reclined in his seat at the VIP table, listening with only half an ear whilst a Journeywitch from Spain dragged everyone through her findings on a new method of charm-assisted chromatography, in this case, illustrated in an ambitious attempt to separate the slow poison from the elusive and coveted aphrodisiac found only in the powdered carapace of the Golden Queen beetle,  _ Lyssa libidinia. _

His mind was pleasantly engaged in racking up a long list of possibilities, all involving himself, Granger, and absolutely no clothes. 

“...Master Snape?” The blonde witch was staring at him directly, her eyes smouldering in a way that might have sparked his interest a week ago. Severus suppressed a sigh. Another randy witch, looking to add the notorious Death Eater and Hero to her little book of conquests. 

Rubbing at his eyes in a reasonably authentic facsimile of fatigue, he reviewed his memories of the last few minutes of drivel. Sighing inwardly, he answered, “I believe that you would benefit from studying the differences between the properties of the male and female of the species.” 

The annoying chit smiled at him, letting her robes fall open to reveal an ample expanse of cleavage. “Estoy fascinada. Perhaps you might spare some of your valuable...” 

Severus interrupted before the barmy bint could proposition him in front of the Mastery board. “The females are often overlooked by the less enlightened of our discipline.” His nerves twanged, warning that there was danger before him and behind. “Venomous. Territorial. They are called Queens for a reason.”

A frown of confusion marred the pretty Journeywitch’s face. “ ¿ Que?” 

Turning his head, he scanned the thin audience and found Hermione. The full force of the Granger-glare was directed at the speaker and it lightened his heart. 

Resolving to have a little fun, he twitched his eyebrows up and dropped the notice-me-not he’d used to conceal the love bite on his neck. He should have healed it, like he’d done for Hermione’s, yet he’d decided that he rather liked wearing her mark too much to part with it. 

Nearby, at least one of his colleagues began to laugh, and the stir broke Granger’s concentration. She caught his long look, returning his gaze steadily. Her eyes widened as she recognised her handiwork, a wide grin breaking the illusion of composure. 

“Senorita… Sagarminaga, was it? I strongly suggest that in the future, you take time to research your specimen before you approach it in the field.” Severus let his eyes track back to the imbecile, sneering. “Much less present it as a last minute addition to your Mastery proposal.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Severus had wanted to skive off from his meetings for the day, but Hermione’s sensibilities overrode his suggestions. She knew he was assigned to review Journeyman to Master thesis proposals, and they were too important for her to allow either of them to cave to temptation. It was a difficult thing to say no to when he was so tender, insisting on healing most of her little hurts. 

_ Alright, Hermione. Focus. You have the opportunity to learn something. And this is Severus’ livelihood. Be supportive.  _

It wasn’t that large of a sacrifice for Hermione. She loved conferences such as these, a meeting of brilliant people, experts in their fields. She’d been well on her way to a double Mastery with Charms when she was offered the opportunity of a lifetime, to join the Ada Byron Institute in Marylebone, a private think tank that offered complete freedom to research whatever inspired her. 

As the tarted up Journeywitch with a lisp made sheep-eyes at Severus, Hermione was sincerely rethinking her position. She was tired, cranky, and deliciously sore which reminded her of what she’d been up to instead of sleeping in this morning. Duty scha-mooty.

It was all she could do to sit still, and when Severus had turned to find her in the audience, the tender remains of her girly bits throbbed in approval as his eyes met hers. 

Severus Snape: 6, Hermione Granger: 2. 

Was he keeping a tally too? 

Giving up the pretense of calm control, Hermione let her knee jiggle in an attempt to burn some of her nervous energy away. 

At last, the Master of Ceremonies brought the session to a close, not a moment too soon for Hermione. Waiting for the theatre to empty out, Hermione made a show of reviewing her programme. She’d marked the sessions that interested her, the keynote address conspicuously marked with a heart. Her cheeks warmed in chagrin. Her sneaky Slytherin had been far too interested in her programme over breakfast, no doubt he’d taken note of her whimsy. 

Stowing the damning document into her pocket, Hermione wandered over to the knot of Masters huddled together. 

“... to be young! Go on, Snape. You’ve done your share.”

A desiccated old nut of a witch cackled, lifting her cane to point at Hermione. “For once, you really do have better things to do. Skedaddle, sonny!” She was definitely American. 

Not sure how to respond, Hermione tried on a polite smile. Was she intruding? 

Rolling his eyes dramatically, Severus turned to Hermione. Situated on his neck, red as an overripe strawberry, was the bite she’d made not three hours ago on his neck. It could only have been more obvious if he’d set up neon lights that flashed, “Hickey right here!” and “Snape had a leg over!” 

By the time he noticed her, the heat on Hermione’s cheeks had mounted to that of an inferno, singeing her ears and setting off smoke signals from the back of her neck; an SOS to the world on behalf of what remained of her dignity. 

Clearing her throat, she asked in what she hoped was a bright tone, “Lunch?” She winced, for it was more of a squawk. Severus nodded to her, a curt but precise response. 

She had no script for this, and he’d essentially just outed them as a couple. Did he not want her to approach? He made eye contact, was it just an act of self preservation? That cheeky bitch wasn’t worthy of kissing Severus’ feet.  _ Maybe if she took her studies seriously, she might be interesting. That was just an abuse of her position to proposition my wizard!  _

Hermione’s nerves jangled as Severus took his leave, walking away from the group. He did shorten his stride so that she could catch up as they made their way silently out of the Hotel. 

As they stepped through the lobby door she asked, “Where are we going?” She squinted as the bright light of the Big Island afternoon struck her with its brilliance. 

Severus kept walking, turning down the street toward town. She caught him looking at her out of the corner of his eye. “I thought you are hungry for lunch. Where’s your sense of adventure?” 

Hermione was glad that she’d put on a sundress under her robes but they needed to change! “Just... hold on a moment. We shouldn’t be…EEK!” 

With a firm hand around her waist, Severus pulled her off of the walk and around the corner of the hotel. Landing with her back against the concrete, she opened her mouth to protest and was cut off by the expediency of an open mouthed, passionate kiss. 

Tense, unsure, and trying to figure out how to ask for a moment to catch her breath without wrecking the mood, for she absolutely did not object to this or spending more time with him, she tried to slow him down, stroking the fabric of his robe. 

It was a shock when those robes disappeared under her fingers, leaving a thin cotton vest in their place. The breeze that danced about her calves was the last straw. Pushing him back she disengaged with a gasp, “Wait!” 

The unhappy little sound he made in protest twisted at her heart. 

_ Focus, Hermione.  _ Looking down, she was glad to see her sundress and not some other confection. The long lines of his pearl grey linen pants beckoned her to look lower, where to her delight, she could see his bare feet encased in a pair of sports sandals. 

She hadn’t noticed them last night in the dark, nor over the emotional roller coaster of breakfast. 

His feet were graceful for a man, with high arches and powerful, long toes. His nails were as short and well manicured as his fingers. The dusting of black hair over the tops came just short of hobbit, but still she found them charming all the same. 

He did not chase after her or crowd her, standing still for her inspection. “Hermione? Would you rather go back to our room? Or did you have some other engagement? I should have inquired…” 

Broken out of her fascination with his feet, Hermione blinked back up at him, again trying to rein in her libido in favour of actual discourse. “No, sorry. I just wanted to know what you had in mind!” She felt silly now, and shrugged her shoulders in an effort to play off her anxiety. 

Severus stepped to her side and leaned his back on the still-cool stone, saying, “Well, there’s a few restaurants in town. Thai food here is quite good, or more of the local fare. I had thought we might try Palli’s.” 

He’d let his hand dangle by her side, so Hermione slipped her hand into his. “I haven’t explored much around Kona.” 

Fingers interlocking with hers, Severus tipped his head so that he could look down into her eyes. “I have been here before. Palini is a native from a magical family. They specialize in tourism for our kind, catering to the whims of their customers.” 

“That sounds … interesting. And this was your idea for lunch? Don’t you have to get back…” 

Severus shook his head, lifting her hand to his lips. “No, I will not be returning for the afternoon sessions. I had… hoped to spend the rest of the day with you.” He lifted his eyes to meet her own, dark and questioning. 

Her revised plans to catch the rest of the Journeymen thesis proposals and that panel on ingredient substitutions evaporated in the heat of her response. Her stomach rumbled, inspiring her to chuckle through her embarrassment. “Only if you promise to feed me.” 

“I told you toast wasn’t enough, Nimue. Have no fear, Pali’s mother is a fantastic cook.” He pushed away from the wall and opened his arm. “May I escort you?” 

Hermione smiled up at him, enjoying the brightness of anticipation in his eyes. Yes, this must be something special. “Of course.” She stepped into his embrace, squeezing her eyes shut against the compression and vertigo of apparation. As she regained her balance, she could tell they had changed elevation by the pressure in her ears. Blinking, she took in the blessed shade of the little shack where they’d arrived. The walls were lined with racks of nick-nacks and postcards. 

A jovial shout of greeting drew their attention. “Snape! Howzit, brother?”

Severus kept one arm around her waist, gently pulling her towards the back of the shop. “Palini.” 

The wizard was big. Hermione hadn’t realised that the shirtless man was sitting until he stood to come around the bar. She looked up… and up… 

The big man bypassed Severus’ outstretched hand in favour of a manly half-hug. “Looking good, my friend.” He stepped back, looking Severus up and down with a pointed double-take at his neck and started to laugh. It was a joyful, melodic sound. “I was beginning to believe that you were avoiding me! Now, who have you brought with you?” 

With light pressure, Severus brought Hermione closer into the shelter of his body. “Palini, this is Hermione Granger.” 

“What has he done to attract such a pretty witch?” Dark and wise eyes winked at her as he shook her hand. “Call me Pali, okay?” Hermione didn’t have a chance to get a word in, for while still holding her hand, the man bellowed over his shoulder, “Mama! Break out the good stuff!”

A woman’s voice floated through from an open door. “What do you want, you lazy nene? I’m elbow deep here. You should come help. A good son…” 

Patting Hermione’s head, but not letting go, he called back, “You won’t want to miss this, Mama. Come see! Severus has brought us his wahine!” 

“Pali…” Severus looked vaguely embarrassed. “Must you make such a fuss?” 

A screeching flurry of white hair smelling strongly of coconuts pushed Palini out of the way. The elderly witch was under 5 feet and to Hermione’s amazement, Severus obediently bent so that she could grab him by the ears. “Hmmph. You are getting grey hair, boy. She tilted his head to the side. “You still using my salve?” Not waiting for an answer, she let go of his ears and patted him on the cheeks in a gesture of tenderness that was in stark contrast to the manhandling she’d employed moments ago. Archily, she groused, “Where’s my kiss, then?”

To Hermione’s amazement, Severus placed a light buss on Mama’s wrinkled forehead, making her age-clouded eyes dance. “Hello, Mama.” 

Hermione swallowed, trying not to choke up at the wave of affection that witnessing such an exchange had on her. 

Pinching his cheek with a wink, Mama turned to Hermione. “Such a rude boy. Welcome. You may call me Mama, everyone does.”

Bending down and offering her hand, Hermione was shocked to discover the strength of the elderly woman’s grip. Not happy with a handshake, the little woman pulled Hermione down so that she could be examined more closely, gripping her by her slack jaw. 

“Good teeth, I see. Sweet breath.” Mama placed a kiss on each of Hermione’s cheeks, muttering something that Hermione did not catch in her scramble to keep up with the woman’s impertinent inspection, which she completed with a very forward slap to Hermione’s arse. “She’ll do. If not I have a grand-daughter…” 

Severus growled… “Mama.” 

Cackling, the witch captured Severus and Hermione’s hands and joined them together. With a shimmer of magic, what looked to her like a garland of long green leaves interspersed with little fragrant white flowers appeared around Severus’ throat. The cool heaviness of a lei of her own felt lovely against her skin, and the soft spicy scent of white ginger warmed her nose. 

As quickly as a summer squall, Mama moved on, calling back, “I have just the grind for you two! My laziest son will help you find the perfect spot.” 

Severus held onto her hand and she was glad to see his smile. Hermione’s ego was a little bruised when the woman had suggested that she wasn’t good enough for him. That smile did much to soothe away her twinge of inadequacy.

“So, if you like I can direct you on a flying tour of the island. I know you’ve seen it before, brother, but your lady-friend might like the hot lava flows. They’ve been most excellent lately.” 

Hermione blanched and immediately said. “No, I don’t think I want to see the volcano today.” 

“Or, I could take you on a tour over the forests to see the orchids. The best ones are in the canopy and you’ll love the…” 

Risking a glance up at her date, Hermione shook her head again. “No…” 

“Or you could see the waterfalls. They are very popular.” 

Hermione brightened, “Cool water. That sounds nice.” 

Oblivious, Palli rattled on, “The best ones are pretty far out, but by broom you can reach them in no time.” 

Mama poked her head out of the back door to grin toothlessly. “The little witch doesn’t want to ride a broom, stupid.” That grin widened, “A soak in the sacred spring will take care of that, little one.” 

Cheeks, ears and neck all heated in embarrassment as Hermione processed what the perceptive old witch had said. Before Hermione could respond, Mama shifted her gaze to Severus, scowling. “Take better care of her, or else.”

Looking thoroughly contrite, the large man ducked his head in apology. “I am sorry, Miss.” He cleared his throat. “Of course, I have port keys. I could set you up with a trip to Rainbow…” 

From the kitchen, the old woman shouted, “Too touristy!” 

Not missing a beat, Palli changed directions, “Ah, or Waipo…” 

That wasn’t good enough in Mama’s opinion either, “They don’t want to look at powerful waterfalls! They need something quiet. Ro-MAN-tic. Look it up, I might get grandchildren out of you yet...”

Palini’s eyes lit as he at last understood his mother’s intentions. He turned to ask, “You mean send them to the sacred spring?” 

“Yes, yes! The grotto will be perfect. Best place Hawaii has to offer, just the thing for you two. Just don’t forget to put the coconut out.” Her voice took on a teasing tone that made Hermione wonder if she might be distantly related to her own mother. 

Imagination running away with her, Hermione wondered just what she was getting into. A thrill of excitement ran through her. They might go swimming. She watched speculatively as Severus pulled out his wallet, and galleons were exchanged. It would be such a  _ shame  _ if Severus weren’t wearing swim shorts. 

The tiny powerhouse of a witch toddled through the door, “Here you go, my dear. You have your wand? Good, good. Just reverse the charms when you are ready to feast.” She pressed a basket that was shrunk to roughly the size of an orange into Hermione’s hand before pointing a bony finger at Severus. “Mind your manners.” 

“Thank you, Mama.” Severus’ crooked smile promised that he had no intention of being entirely polite. The wicked look he gave her hit her like a gust of steam over her already flushed skin _. Where is that port-key?  _

Palini shouldered past Mama, offering them a coconut with a crudely painted circle on it. “Here’s the port-key. Just leave it at the trail-head and follow the sound of water.” He gestured for Severus to take it, adding, “Hold on, it will activate as soon as I let go.” 

Tucked closely into Severus’ side, Hermione cradled their picnic basket to her chest and reached out with her other hand to grasp the rough hide of their portkey. Feeling inexplicably shy, she willed herself to return Severus’ smile as his hand about her waist gripped her tighter. With a flash of blue light and a tug behind her navel, the shack disappeared.


	5. Le festin est sur mon chemin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftercare or foreplay? Yoni. AN: Food items in sexy times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Qdrew who beta'd for me, and LunaP999 who alpha read and inspired me.

Severus and Hermione spun back into existence with a flash of blue light and the mingled honeyed spice of ginger flowers and the woodsy vanilla of maile leaves. If Hermione clung to Severus a moment longer than necessary, Severus did not blame her. It was nice to stand there together, surrounded by the exotic foliage native to the island. 

As he relaxed, the sounds of the forest reached his ears. The rush of water was easy to pick out, and not far. Above, a flash of red feather accompanied the “pew pew” call of a male cardinal. Severus would have seen the female not far away in the brush below, but his attention returned to the woman tucked into his side. 

“Are you all right?” 

Hermione answered in a small voice, “Yes. The nausea is passing off.” 

“You are prone to motion sickness?” 

Pale, his witch pulled away to meet his eyes in consternation. “How’d you know?”   


Severus leaned down to place a kiss on the top of her head. “Educated guess. You hate flying, don’t like Quidditch…” 

Looking uncomfortable, Hermione straightened, pulling away from him. “Yeah, I never enjoyed driving either. Trains are all right, so long as they are on the move. Sailing out on the open ocean?” She wrinkled her nose. “I’d rather have tea with Umbridge.” 

Laughing reluctantly, Severus nodded. “There is a potion…” 

She completed his sentence with a shrug, “A potion for motion sickness? I’ve tried it. It never is at hand when I need it. Last time, when it wore off I felt like I was bobbing on the ocean for almost a full day afterwards, which was worse.” Hermione glanced down the hill. “Shall we go see what Mama’s idea of perfection might be?” 

Severus leaned over and placed the coconut in the middle of the path, its marking facing out. “Lead on!” 

As they followed the trail downward, the terrain became rockier and slick with moss. Both of them were breathing hard when they made it down to the edge of the pool. 

The waterfall’s noise wasn’t so loud as to interfere in conversation, the path of the water broken into a series of smaller falls cascading down the face of the nearby cliff. 

The pool below appeared to be deep, the water a clear emerald, fading to jet black below. Spying a largish rock, about the right height for use as a bench, Severus guided Hermione with him to sit. 

Eyes alight with curiosity, Hermione took in the beauty around them, but Severus only had eyes for her. Her dress was light and clung to her in the humidity, and while he’d already seen her in the all-together, he admired the way her waist nipped in, yielding to the soft swell of her hips and belly. Her skin wasn’t the pale porcelain of a British rose, rather glowing with a healthy tawny gold. She hadn’t yet developed any grey hair, although he supposed she might dye it away. He rather thought she hadn’t. Unthinking, he reached up and captured one of her curls, winding the soft silk about his finger. Unlike his own flat black, her hair was a complicated amalgam of mahogany overlaid with fiery highlights of copper and bronze. 

She’d noticed his inspection. “It has a mind of its own in this humidity.” With a self-depreciating chuckle, she added, “If we are unlucky, I might go full medusa.” 

The curl sprung back into shape when he released it, his eye enchanted by the diminishing bounce as it settled back into place. “I was the head of Slytherin. I think I can manage.”

That made her laugh, a clear crystalline sound, richer and more pleasing than any bell. “That I’d like to see.” She’d turned her considerable attention back on him now, and she seemed oddly anxious. 

“Are you well, Hermione?” 

A sad look crossed his witch’s face, and Severus’ heart fell. “I--” She tore her eyes away, looking down to the basket cradled in her lap. “We should see what Mama packed for us.” 

Severus reached out a hand and stilled her wand. “Look, Hermione. We could head back if this is too much…” 

Alarmed, Hermione shook her head. “No, no! I don’t want to go back.” She bit her lip and looked up at him once more, her dark brown eyes lovely and shining with unspoken emotion. “But at some point, I will have to go home. And… I… we haven’t discussed what that means for us.” She turned her hand, twining her fingers with his. “This is all so… surreal.” 

With a squeeze to her hand, Severus looked down at Hermione, controlling his expression carefully. “Does it follow that our dream must end?” 

“No! I.. mean to say...oh Severus.” She searched his eyes. “I want to keep exploring this wonderful thing we’ve started. I do, but I cannot help but wonder — is there room in your life for me? I am not an easy witch to live with.” 

Unable to help himself, Severus snorted. 

The answering frown on her pretty face made him chuckle. 

“You are laughing at me!” 

Severus spread his free hand at his own chest. “Kettle meet cauldron.” 

She dropped his hand and stood, returning to resizing the basket, which she accomplished with a swish and syncopated flick of her wand. “You might be right, but what happens when I get cross with you?” 

It was easier to breathe, now that Severus understood what was worrying her. “Then we fence wits, or words, or wands…” He grinned, “I look forward to finding out. What will it be like to love Hermione Granger, a witch who wears her heart on her sleeve?”

Holding a bundle in one hand, Hermione looked up at him with her mouth parted charmingly in shock. 

“It will be a relief. To know where I stand… honestly. Yes, I think I am definitely looking forward to that.” 

Huffing, Hermione grumbled. “You’ll regret it when I’m in a mood.” 

“I am sure that my years of service to Himself will pale compared to Granger when she’s in a right strop.” He took the bundle from her, unfolding a rather plush picnic blanket, the quilted fabric suspiciously well padded. “I can handle it, don’t you think?” 

“Put it down here.” Hermione pointed to a flat spot, back from the edge of the water enough to not be too moist and began unpacking the basket. 

Spreading out the blanket, Severus couldn’t stop grinning. “I do so love it when you say naughty things.” 

Hermione whipped around with a gasp. “Severus Snape! I’m trying to have a serious conversation about the future with you!” She couldn’t build up to a genuine fury, for the wink he aimed at her took the ire out of her. 

He held out a hand, having removed his own lei already. “I’ll hang these over there while we eat.” He’d gestured to a likely looking place in the tree nearby. 

The witch complied, but he could tell she wasn’t completely satisfied. Her posture was too rigid, and she’d stopped rummaging. 

Slipping out of his sandals, Severus situated himself on the blanket and patted his knee. “Come here for a moment, Miss Granger.” When she didn’t move immediately, he added persuasively. “I want to hold you if you insist on having this conversation. Please?” 

“Dammit, why do you have to be so…” She straightened her skirt and primly knelt down next to him. “So... “ 

Waiting for her to finish the sentence, Severus held up an arm, inviting her to lean against him. 

“So bloody calm? There you are tall, dark and devastatingly handsome. The stuff of legend. That’s you. And we’re here in paradise. Papers, new ideas, all wrapped up in Hawaii, and somehow here we are!” 

When she didn’t take his offer, he rested his arm on his knee. “Hermione. Whatever else you may believe, know this. I am not a stupid man. If I spend time with you, it is because it is precisely where I choose to be. This island is a marvel, and someday I will return yet again, but I hope to carry what Hawaii has given to me… Gods willing... to _ us _ , for years to come; if you haven’t come to your senses and tossed my narrow arse to the kerb.” 

Hermione looked down at her hands; her face troubled as she whispered, “You mean that.” It wasn’t a question, but Severus still felt compelled to answer. 

“As a Slytherin who wishes to woo a Gryffindor, it is very much in my best interest to be honest with you, Hermione.” He glanced at the basket. “Now, I think I ought to get some food into you.” He waved her down. “No, you sit. I’ll bring it over.” 

Mama had packed the basket very full. Severus rummaged through the parcels, pausing at a very pointed note bespelled for his eyes only.  _ “Severus, feed her first. Before you cross wands again, you must soothe her with the oil and then apply the honey to her pot. Let it rest for the time it takes to properly brew a coffee, and only then wash it away. Don’t let it stay too long; it is powerful healing. I am sure a wise wizard can think of a way to clean it off. Best, Mama.”  _

Swallowing down his surprise, he found the oil and set both it and the honey to the side.  _ What was I doing? Right. Lunch. _ He pulled out a large packet of what he knew contained fish, wrapped in ti leaves. “Undo this, we should eat it while it is still warm.” His hands hesitated on a paper packet of chips. Mama sent them fish and sweet potato chips.  _ Such a card.  _

“This isn’t so bad.” He handed down the chips, and after a moment’s searching, he located a small wax paper packet of salt, the colour of clay. Brandishing the salt, he dropped it next to her before turning to rinse off his hands in the pool nearby. When he turned back, Hermione had opened the fish and was binding up her hair out of the way. 

It was trickier to find room for both of them and the food, and his legs stuck off the blanket. 

“Aren’t there any forks?” 

Severus leaned in with a smile. “No, there are not.” He broke off a piece of fish, butterfish if his nose was correct, and popped it into his mouth. 

It was Hermione’s turn to pad over to the water. “You think this is clean water?” 

“It is a sacred spring.” Severus admired the curve of her back and her lightly muscled arms as she dipped her hands into the water. 

“Oh, that’s lovely! It’s not too cold!” She looked over her shoulder at him, and he thought she looked better. She smirked as she stood up. “Oi. I see you.” 

He flashed her his best toothy grin. “See me getting the best of these chips.” 

That fetched her. “Budge over!” Hermione stepped out of her leather thongs and onto the blanket. 

Severus did no such thing, pulling the fish closer to him. “Have a care, woman.” 

She flopped down, legs folded off to the side, reaching over to pick out the large bite of fish he’d been aiming to claim next. Her smile was blinding just before she made it disappear. “Mmm.” 

Watching Hermione tuck in, Severus held back his urge to tease her. It was much better to watch the witch eat. It struck him that she did not understand how attractive she was as a woman. It wasn’t just her physical beauty, evident in the angle of her jaw and the graceful line of her collarbone, more visible now that she’d pulled her hair up and out of the way. It was the sharpness of her mind and the open generosity of her heart. 

He’d seen how worried she was when they finally came face to face that morning. She’d acted as though she’d done him a disservice by inviting him into her bed when he’d been the daft ‘apeth who’d broken into her room. At this late hour, he was not about to apologize, although if viewed with a gimlet eye he was much farther in the wrong. 

The true crime was that he’d only approached her because of Felix. Damnation, he really would have to do something nice for Vargas, right before he recommended that the Society send his thesis back for revision without the questionable addition of liquid luck. 

Hermione broke into his thoughts as he took the last chip, “You suppose there’s anything to drink in the basket?” 

With a grunt, he levered himself to his feet to retrieve the bottle. He needed to get his mind back in the moment, for he had  _ plans _ . 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Hermione admired her lover’s arse, which seemed easier to contemplate than the huge shift in her life that had swept in overnight—well, swaggered into her bed. One probably could bounce a sickle off of Severus’ tight bum and make change. 

It was finally sinking in. The dream was a reality. There was no cruel joke, no plot twist. Severus Snape, sexy mind and sinful voice all wrapped up in a lean, very shaggable package, was in fact interested in her. An interest that he proposed to pursue even after they returned to the comparatively dreary shores of the UK. 

She leaned back on her elbow, letting one strap of her dress fall to the side, and waited patiently for him to turn back around.

Her mouth was unaccountably dry, and she reached eagerly to accept the cup of tea that Severus handed down to her. Mama had brewed it weak and it had a mild flavour, but the cool liquid was just the thing. 

“Are you full, or is there room for dessert?” Severus held a jam pot loosely in his hand. “Mama packed enough for several meals.” 

Consulting her tummy with a pat, she nodded. “Definitely full. Although I think I’d like to try the pudding later.” The second mouthful of tea lost its edge of astringency as she swished it about her mouth. A proper oolong didn’t require embellishment. Her estimation of Mama’s taste elevated a notch. 

“Definitely, later.” He stood over her, expression inscrutable as he rolled the jam jar in his hands. 

Hermione craned her neck, trying to get a better idea of what was coming next. She rather hoped for a snog, or perhaps a nap. A nap sounded delightful. She took another mouthful of tea, a reason to look down. Her neck was getting exhausted with the effort.  _ Oh, dear. I’m whinging in my head.  _

The longer he stood, the more she wondered what he was up to. Unable to stand the suspense, she asked, “Care to share?” She let the question stand, open-ended. 

Severus’ grin before he answered was sharp, almost predatory. “Mama sent along a honey pot.” The pot spun and tumbled a trifle faster between his palms and the fluid motion drew her eye. “I am warming it up.” 

Reluctant to put voice to her confusion, Hermione grumbled. “Why don’t you sit down? I am getting a crick in my neck.” 

With a tilt of his head, which perhaps passed for an apology in Snape-language, Severus turned and folded himself into a lotus position, depositing the pot into his trouser pocket before pulling out a small plastic bottle for her inspection.

_ Fractionated Coconut Oil, 100% pure.  _

Hermione cracked the cap, testing the fragrance with her nose before holding it up to the light. “Looks like it is what it says. Unscented.” She tried a tentative smile, “A shame since I like the scent of coconut.” 

The silent scrutiny from her companion was unnerving her. She handed the bottle back, he seemed to come to a conclusion. “Would you like a foot rub, Hermione?” 

Of their own volition, Hermione's toes wriggled with silent endorsement. “Well, if you are offering, I won’t say no.” She hadn’t made time for a pedi before she left London, but she was too intrigued to let that deter her. 

“Then get comfortable.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Severus’ experience with massage was that of an amateur enthusiast. An ex-lover had gifted him with a very personal healing massage, and the experience stayed with him. She was a talented mediwitch, one who’d made it clear that she had no intention of building a lasting relationship with him from their first kiss. She’d been visiting from out of the country and was not interested in building a life in the UK. He had been disappointed, for she really was remarkable, but he had nothing to reproach her with. He still occasionally exchanged notes with her, but they’d never renewed their physical relationship. 

“Oh, god. Don’t stop!” Hermione’s demand had no edge to it, for she spoke in a languid, dreamy tone. About five minutes back, she’d given up and laid down flat. He’d begun to worry that she was falling asleep, and while that was on the menu, he wasn’t ready for her to go that far yet. 

Mama had given him a mission: take care of his witch. 

He’d not considered the possibility that the little witch might become sore. They’d discussed contraception before leaving the hotel room, he’d seen to the love bites he’d covered her tender parts with, but he’d neglected her privates and was determined to rectify the situation. 

While his fingers were still focused on the ball of her left foot, he whispered, “Hermione?” 

“Hmm?” The little witch’s arms were stretched out carelessly above her head, inviting his eyes to admire the curve of her hip and the gentle swell of her breasts. 

He paused to retrieve the little bottle of oil. She let out a soft whine at the loss. “I am not finished with you yet, have no fear. I wondered if I might proceed...further?” 

She cracked an eye and pondered him speculatively. “How much further?” 

“I plan to work my way up to your knees next, and then by your leave venture…further still.” 

A little crease formed between Hermione’s brows, so Severus resumed stroking her left foot, using only light pressure to reinforce their connection. “The oil has healing properties.” 

Hermione pillowed her head on a bent arm, making it easier for her to watch from under her lashes. “Go on.” 

“If I had known before we left the hotel that you were uncomfortable, I’d have insisted on taking care of you.” He turned his focus to her foot, admiring the way her toes spread and then curled as he kneaded out the tension. “I should have thought to ask, but I did not, and for that oversight, I apologize. You have driven me to distraction, it seems.” 

She’d scoffed at his admission, her soft belly betraying her amusement with the ripple of a suppressed laugh. “So, if I understand you correctly… you are admitting that you have brutalized my poor bits with your impressive cock, and seek permission to access the same tender bits again by way of contrition?” 

He choked when she’d likened their activity to violence and was reviewing the events of the previous night, wondering if he’d missed something. 

“Don’t stop massaging, or I really will seek retribution for loutish behaviour.” She’d spoken with an edge of trademark Granger bossiness, which heartened him. 

Resuming the motion of his hands, using longer strokes up and down the soles of her feet, he said. “Apology and amends. I promise to be gentle, and keep my… in your own verbiage,  _ impressive  _ equipment to myself.” 

Immediately, her mouth twisted into a moue of dismay. “No. Unacceptable.” 

Pulling his hands away, Severus felt a true pang of concern.  _ Just how badly have I messed this up?  _

“Severus Snape, if you don’t get your brilliant hands back on my body this instant, I shall hex your bollocks to the size of coconuts and switch them with your nose.” 

Thoroughly baffled, he hastened to obey. 

“That’s better. Now, if you think that I am going to let a little discomfort stand between me and another go with the wizard I’ve wanted to shag for ages, then you must have forgotten who I am.” 

Relieved, Severus countered, “Consider this proposal: I give you a massage with the express intent of healing, and then apply the honey as Mama has instructed.” 

The way her lips crooked upwards at the corner was a good sign, but he was pleased when she tilted her head. “Honey?” She licked her lips. “Applied down there?” 

This honey was a healer-grade white Kiawe. Severus had recognised its potential immediately, although the note from Mama solidified his plan. “Yes.” 

She wrinkled her nose, “If I get a yeast infection, I will be very put out.” 

“It may surprise you that some use this particular honey to treat wounds. It has both antibacterial and antifungal properties.” Severus waited, hoping that Mama’s endorsement might help carry the proposal. 

Hermione was quiet for a moment before she asked, “This isn’t just a ploy to eat me out again, is it? Because if it is, I’m amenable. You needn’t go to such lengths...” 

“On my magic, my primary intention is to treat you and your pussy with utmost respect and care. I would be happy to help you clean up the honey after it has done its magic.”

“Which will take how long?” She had her eyes closed once more, a gentle smile on her lips. 

“Fifteen, thirty minutes at most.”

Hermione’s smile widened, “Oh, all right. If you  _ insist.  _ You are a horrible man, and I will allow you to make it up to me.” 

“Mea culpa.” He let his head drop in a reasonable facsimile of contrition. 

“Bollocks!” Giggling, Hermione used her free foot to prod his chest. “Get to work, Mr Snape.” 

Laughing, Severus applied more oil to her shins, spreading it with both hands in long, sweeping strokes. “Yes m’lady.” 

As he worked his way up her calves, he discovered that she preferred lighter pressure than he’d used on her feet. He admired her warm tawny complexion, which glowed brighter as he worked the oil into her skin. 

Her dress, which was a light summer-weight cloth of white, was gradually inching up her thigh as he worked his thumbs into the thick band of sinew along her outer leg. He was taking his time, for she became utterly relaxed under his hands, and there was no hurry. 

Placing her left leg back down gently onto his lap, he turned to work the same magic on her right. She’d closed her eyes, her breaths slow and even, but not in the rhythm of sleep. Intentionally or not, she’d matched his own breathing pattern. 

An impish part of his mind wondered what sort of knickers she’d donned this morning when he’d absented himself to wash up after breakfast. She wore white, but for a witch conversant with charmwork that was not a problem. Would she choose practical cotton, like what she’d worn last night? Perhaps a utilitarian colour, beige or tan, meant to blend in. 

Hermione sighed, letting her head loll to the side. Her neck was graceful, the curve of the muscles of her throat like poetry written for his eyes. 

Or, would she wear something more daring? He’d no expectations. She’d not travelled to Hawaii with the intention of finding a bed-fellow. Still, the idea of her in a string bikini, something that he might untie in parts was intriguing. Not a garish Gryffindor red, but perhaps a richer wine, or a simple, elegant black. 

Do they have any topless beaches here in the States? Pali would know. 

Shifting his position, he paused to reapply the oil to his hands. Hermione shifted, letting her leg fall open to the side, and as close as he was, he caught the faint smell that belonged to her. The Universe was testing him, for her skirt fell the rest of the way down to her hip.

He had his answer. Hermione Granger, paragon of the light, the goodie-two-shoes who had earned only one detention in her entire time at Hogwarts lay as bare as the day she was born with her legs resting over his lap. Swollen and parted as though left wanting for his kisses, her lower lips peeked through the neat vee of trim curls of a mature witch. His fingers trembled with the effort needed to restrain his immediate impulse to touch her. 

Severus swallowed hard. It would not do. He would not deviate from his stated intentions. Tearing his eyes away from the barely concealed temptation, easily within touching distance, he forced himself to take a few steadying breaths. He had to pour a little more oil out onto his hand, for he’d allowed it to ooze away in his distraction. 

With a renewed sense of purpose, he returned his focus to the meat of her thighs, the quadriceps. She was not heavily muscled, but he could tell that she did some sort of exercise to stay trim. 

Tucking her leg up against his chest, he exerted a firm and sustained pressure, releasing the muscles along her hip. His patience paid off; with a subtle shift, the tension gave way in degrees. 

“Ohhhhh.” Her eyes fluttered open in surprise. 

Letting up, Severus rotated her leg slightly and then repeated the manoeuvre. “Keep focused on your breathing. Imagine the tension draining away, into the ground.” 

Swallowing noisily, Hermione nodded before quirking her mouth in a lopsided smile. 

“What is so amusing?” He knew if she didn’t speak her mind, she’d explode. 

Meeting his eyes, she whispered, “If I relax anymore all of me is going to be rendered down to a puddle of happy Hermione. I don’t know that my parents would appreciate it if I returned home packed in one of your flasks.” 

He grinned, “I’d never get you past MACUSA customs, so it isn’t even an option.” 

“Probably right.” Her brows knit together as he added a little more pressure. 

Severus shook his head, “Of course I’m right. Silence witch, I am working.” 

Hermione’s tummy jerked with her suppressed laugh, and she closed her eyes again. 

Shifting so that he could free his left hand, using it to soothe her outer leg and hip. Watching her face carefully, he added just a little more force. The taut muscle and fascia softened to a putty-like plience under his fingers. 

A sheen of sweat had appeared on her lip and brow, and she was breathing deeply as she adjusted to the new sensation. He bent forward, bringing her buttock up to his leg so that he had better leverage to knead the remaining knots underneath her. 

He was trying very hard not to think about the very bare lips that kissed at his pant-leg, or the soft thatch of crinkly hair that covered it, inviting his fingers to comb through, to delve deeper. It was impossible, hopeless to return to the unaffected concentration he’d managed prior to this. 

With regret, he shifted back from her and turned to her other thigh. It mattered not that the oil had no fragrance, for her perfume was far more interesting. Neither precisely sweet nor obviously savoury, he chose to focus on that, use it as a secondary anchor into the moment. His hands knew what to do, large strokes giving way to attention to unblocking the flow of her energy through her hips. Her left hip gave way more readily than the right, and before long it came to the moment he’d been anticipating. “Love?”

A wave of disorientation briefly stole his focus. It was too early to be saying the L-word, wasn’t it? He searched her face for any indication of offence. He had laid out his heart, and she seemed to welcome the overture, tears notwithstanding.

She didn’t open her eyes, indicating to him that she’d heard him with a delicate grunt. 

No harm, then. “Your dress might stain.” Severus’ hands were slick with the oil, and he tried to transfer as much as he could to his own forearms. Not satisfied, he grumbled, “This would be simpler without having to concern myself with your clothes.”

Her right hand twitched weakly in a shooing gesture. “Off with them.” 

Feeling like Christmas had come early, he made quick work of the tie on the front of her sundress. The white fabric was smooth under his fingers as he peeled back the layers, revealing one lovely breast and then the other. 

Muzzily, Hermione cracked open her eyes. “I don’t want to move. Don’t make me get up, please.” 

“Hmm?” Severus wasn’t sure what she meant. 

She twitched a shoulder. “Can’t you just… charm my clothes off?” 

“Working on it, my lady.” His grin had returned. “It was easier last night.” 

Hermione feigned a gasp of offence, the effect of which she immediately ruined by dissolving into giggles. “Don’t get too used to it. When I saw you standing there in the moonlight, I lost my mind.” 

Whisper soft, he used magic to transfer the dress to the basket. He had become unaccountably fond of the light, fluttery confection. “A lapse in judgement, for which I am most grateful.” He would turn his thoughts to the dress later. Now, he focused on returning his witch back to a state of utter relaxation. 

***

  
  


Hermione was a puddle of lucky girl, rendered to liquid form under Severus’ touch. For all of the years they’d spent at odds, it was perhaps a trifle troubling that she felt so comfortable in his care. 

She’d been watching him from under her lashes, methodically working the stress and tension out of her, one trigger point at a time. The ease that flowed between them was real. His expressions were unguarded and more interesting to her than the visual treat of his muscular forearms as they rippled in a mesmerizing pattern. 

A wicked part of her wanted to shock him, to tempt him so thoroughly that he’d act without thought. 

She had tucked her wand into her hair, in easy reach. The next time he turned to the side to get more of the oil, she surreptitiously made her knickers vanish. The spellwork was necessarily crude, and she doubted if she’d ever see that pair again, but she considered it to be a worthy sacrifice and it paid off when he discovered what she’d done.

When he’d asked to remove her dress in its entirety, it felt natural. She was so far from home, but her exposure didn’t bother her in the least. Severus was right here, professing  _ gratitude _ with his words and his hands and…  _ oh my heart _ ... his eyes. 

In less than a day, she felt closer to him than she had ever felt with Ron. 

As he used both hands in long strokes to caress her from shoulder to thigh and back again, the motion brought his face down to hover over her belly, and then back to the upright position. He repeated the motion, each flowing from one to the next, up and down. 

It struck her that he looked very much like a man taking part in prayer—a communion. 

Tears clouded her vision. She wanted to reach up and tell him she felt it too. 

Instinct stayed her tongue; the moment was too fragile, too perfect. The words sounded insipid when she tried them out in her mind. 

No, this was not the time for words. Silence. Words felt, but left unspoken because they didn’t need to be said for the sentiment to be real. Ginny would be proud. 

Decision made, Hermione let go, focusing her entire being on the hands on her body and being one with Severus. 

His hands gradually altered their course, dipping back behind her waist before traveling up over her hips and down her inner thighs. With every pass, she relaxed a little further. 

Severus was using lighter pressure, his hands slowing down. With his thumbs, he soothed the soft folds of her labia while he placed gentle pressure just above her pubic bone. At first, she thought he was becoming fatigued, needing to anchor his hands to go on. 

She knew she was turned on; how could she not be? However, she had not anticipated the intensity of her response to such simple, indirect touches. This was beyond what she’d expected of foreplay, her soreness was still there, but the ache had sweetened her arousal, brought it to a sharp focus. 

His thumbs slowly swept up and down, encompassing the full length of her outer folds, and yet never delving deeper. She could feel herself responding to his touch, blood surging to the tissues, moisture pooling between her legs. Her core felt as full as surely as she had when he made love to her that morning, and her breathing became laboured, hitching with a confusion of juxtaposed emotions. 

“Shh, Hermione. It’s all right, love. Just breathe. I have you.” 

To her shame, a little whimper escaped her in between burning breaths. She wasn’t sure what was happening. He wasn’t inside of her but felt so full -- in body and spirit alike. Her centre wound tighter, and something momentous was approaching,  _ fast _ . Her breaths were coming in sharper gasps. 

“Is this okay? I am not hurting you?” Severus was watching her, his brows knit in concern.

All she could do was shut her eyes and hold on for dear life. “Ah... M’good. Oh!” What he was doing to her was entirely the opposite of pain. Her skin was alive, tingling and buzzing over all of her nerve endings as though Severus had bathed her in raw magic. 

She was trying to push out words to tell him how devastatingly wonderful she felt when all thought disintegrated. Hermione came undone with a single perfect concussive wave of pleasure that spread outward from her core, rippling in tremors she felt radiate from the marrow of her bones to the ends of her fingers and her toes. 

Hermione gradually regained her higher functions as the tingling receded. Everything was hazy except for her lover’s steady gaze. 

Severus sat quietly, one hand cupping her sex. He cradled the honey pot in his other hand. “Hermione?” 

Shivering with a last wayward aftershock, Hermione tried to speak. “Hnngh?” She was vaguely aware that her tears had dried, and that at some point she might have drooled. 

“If you are ready, I will apply the honey.” 

Taking a deep breath, she consulted her bits, who were content, cuddled in Severus’ hand, thank you very much. Finding no strong objection from that quarter, she rasped, “Careful? Sensitive.” 

A gruff chuckle preceded his answer, “Of course.” 

Despite the warmth of the Hawaiian afternoon, she was sensitive to the air as Severus opened her folds. She failed to control a flinch as he adjusted his grip. 

Severus stilled his hand. “I see that this was a good idea.” Waiting for her to relax, he bent down to get a better look and his hair brushed against her inner thigh. It was a surprise, and made her jump again. 

“Hermione, maybe I should take you back…” He looked very contrite, his brow drawn up and together in worry. 

“No, I’m fine! It was your hair.” She bit her lip, not liking how whiny she sounded, too much like her godson when he wanted to stay up just a little bit longer. “I’m ticklish.” 

He searched her face and found reassurance in her smile. With a finger, feather-light, he began applying the milky white substance. She’d expected it to feel sticky or cold, but found it was neither. He started low and worked his way up. 

She tried to hold still, but as he put the lightest of touches to her clit, she squirmed and a drop landed on her thigh. Ever the opportunist, he licked it right off, a move that made her pussy clench in approval, which also was sore. “Hey!” 

“A moment.” The clever wizard took a dollop of the honey on his finger and used that to drizzle the thick liquid over her overstimulated bits. “And that’s done.” 

She had to know. “Give me your hand.” 

One brow arched up in surprise, but Severus didn’t resist when she caught him about the wrist. He watched with a shuttered expression as she pulled his honey-coated fingers into her mouth, and thoroughly licked them clean. 

His trousers did nothing to hide the bulge that grew therein. She wanted to get her hands on his cock, but she was too content.  _ Later, _ she promised herself. 

As she drifted on the edge of dreamland, she dimly registered Severus urging her to lie on her stomach on the blanket. Gentle strokes of his fingers up and down her back lulled Hermione into a shallow slumber. 


	6. Je dresse la table

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Qdrew who beta'd for me. LunaP999, this one is for you!

Severus found peace, meditating by the waterfall with his Hermione resting under his watchful eye. A corner of his mouth twitched up in amusement. He awaited the right moment to wake her, relying on the same instinct for timing that served him so well in the potions lab. 

He always took brewing seriously, and the work was interesting and satisfying enough to keep him fully engaged. For him, the joy wasn’t only hinged on the thrill of pulling off a wickedly difficult potion, but in the familiarity of simpler tasks. There was no task too mundane, every moment brought a sort of pleasure. 

The same could not be said for witches. 

Forgetting the sycophants who were still awful, even though the war was over a decade ago, it was difficult to find anyone who could keep up with him. There were witches who were a treasure in the bedroom, but so far he’d not been able to find one who might willingly carry on a conversation about anything more weighty than where one might obtain the best aphrodisiac-laced tea. Those witches who were interesting conversationalists were unavailable: already taken, uninterested in him, or weren’t compelling to Severus. The last one had the moral compass of a Yorkshire pudding. He might as well try to wank to a recitation of the ingredients necessary for the Wiggenweld formula. 

Closing his eyes, he could easily envision spending quiet time with Hermione. She could hold her own in a debate, they’d sparred often enough in the past. The possibility of a collaboration with her was particularly tempting. 

His mind wandered to fantasy, his bed, both of them naked, perhaps enjoying a lie-in on a Saturday morning. They might discuss a theoretical problem of some minor import. The light of inspiration would blaze to life within her eyes, and she’d unthinkingly summon parchment and quill and use him as a desk as she worked through the calculations. 

He’d grouse, all the while admiring his wife as the warm morning light made her look like an angel.

With a shudder, his mental train of thought rolled right off the rails as he backpedalled. _Did I just think of her as my Wife?_

Severus blinked, trying to wrap his mind around the idea. She’d be there, not only in his bed, but at his table, in his study, and his lab. She’d almost certainly clog the drains. 

_Well, what was magic for, but to solve problems? I could deal with that in a trice. She took a NEWT in ancient runes, perhaps between the two of us we could place a Hair Abjuration Hex on the pipe..._

Would I want to be married? The life of a bachelor is very comfortable. 

_With this woman… possibly_. 

Isn’t it too soon for such thoughts? 

_Yes. I shouldn’t be setting my heart on this so soon. We’ve only just begun._

_And yet... Here I am._

_I must be addlepated. Something in the fish. I would never leap into love so deeply, so quickly._

His heart skipped a beat at the lie. It already knew all too well. 

_Fuck._

  
  


* * *

  
  


Hermione was having a wet dream. Her body floated on a cloud, weightless and utterly relaxed. Nothing hurt, and her skin felt warm, as though she’d been napping in the sun like Crookshanks used to do. 

Something lovely was happening between her legs. “Mmm.” 

Tongue. That’s the ticket. Neither fingers, cock, nor magic could duplicate this. It dipped between her folds, tracing a circuit from clit to cunt and back up again. “More.” She spread her legs wider, opening herself to her dream lover. 

Already the wellspring of pleasure bubbled to a simmer and she groaned as the pressure built. 

Chasing the sensation, she lifted her hips at a faster rate, wanting more friction. 

Hands grasped her by the hips, slowing her down as the simmer bubbled up to a full boil. The tongue was getting both of her best spots while tracing a figure 8. 

“Yes! Oh, Gods. Keep doing that, don’t...don’t stop, I swear I’ll die, I’ll die if you just… YES.” Distantly, she knew that was her own voice, but her brain was shorting out between sleep and the amazing demonstration of cunnilingus being held on the stage of her pussy. 

She groaned in frustration, unable to break free of the hands holding her down so that she could hold that questing tongue to her clit. “Auugh... Almost.. Just… up!” 

Her swollen clit throbbed, as though it had been drawn into a lover’s mouth, sucked up and down the length, searing the most sensitive spot with pleasure so sharp it burned. Each pass sent warning shocks, her thighs trembling. She was a volcano, deep primal forces building to new incendiary heights. 

“Fucking brilliant! Fuck! FUUUUH...!” Hermione’s breath was stolen from her as she burst into a million bits. 

As the spots receded from her vision, she woke fully. She hung limply in the breeze, floating on his magic, shuddering and gulping for air. 

The puff of breath brushed against her as the bastard chuckled, no doubt gloating over his handiwork. 

“Was that… what was…?” She shook her head, trying to organise her brain to volunteer the words she needed to formulate her question. 

Severus placed a tender kiss on her thigh. “That was thirty minutes. As we discussed, I have cleaned you up.” 

Feeling cheated somehow, Hermione levelled a glare at him. Logically, her position was a good one, all these orgasms, the oral sex. “Aren’t you tired?” 

Not deterred by her glare one iota, Severus steered her body back down to the soft blanket, and then covered her over with a light sheet, transfigured from a clean serviette. “You should rest.” 

“I was asleep, but _someone_ woke me up!” She cringed at her petulant tone, but it couldn’t be helped. 

“Think of it as payback.” Stretching out beside her, still fully clothed (another point that annoyed her), Severus added, “Are you complaining?” 

He had a point -- she’d fucked him to wakefulness this morning -- but there was something funny about the whole thing. The equation was either unbalanced or missing a variable. “Hmm. Best not. Day isn’t over, more to come. Will issue an itemized review on request, later. May take five working days to produce your report.” 

That made him chuckle. He turned his head so he could regard her with mock solemnity, “I shall grant you clemency for now. This is but an intermission, mind you.” 

Hermione watched in mild concern as Severus yawned, a jaw-cracker that afforded her a view of his tonsils. Little wonder! He’d been up with her part of the night, and that on top of the Conference and transcontinental travel. Gently, she ran her fingers over his brow, and down into his hair. 

“If you keep on as you are, I will fall asleep.” 

Her hands stilled for a moment as she formulated an answer, “That sounds like a _fine_ idea.” She’d tried to emulate her mother’s talent, modulating her diction of the word fine with the meaning of finest quality, rather than the mundane meaning it had taken on over recent decades. 

With one eye squinting at her in mock-reproach, Severus grumbled. “Bossy.” 

“You like it.” Realising that perhaps she’d spoken more truthfully than she’d intended, she qualified, “How else would you know what I am thinking?” 

Severus widened his eyes as he quipped back, “Magic.” The mirth in his expression faded as he asked, “Speaking of. Are you feeling better?” 

Shifting onto her side, Hermione pressed her thighs together experimentally. “I think so, actually.” 

The relief showed in Severus’ answering smile. It was a subtle upturn in the edges of his mouth, and to Hermione the sweetness struck her unexpectedly hard in the gut. _I could get addicted to that smile._ She resumed her gentle ministrations, listening to the whispering of the waterfall nearby. _That’s what is missing. I want to give him as much joy as he gives me._

Severus’ breaths slowed to the gentle, even cadence of sleep. She kept watch over him, scheming for ways to share happiness with Severus Snape. At length, Hermione’s eyelids became too heavy and she followed him into dreamland. 

* * *

Both woke to fat raindrops penetrating through the canopy of foliage overhead, the edge of the jungle provided at best sparse coverage so close to the pool. 

With a grunt, Severus sat up beside her, peering up at the sky in consideration. 

Hermione didn’t wake as cleanly as Severus, blearily grumbling as a hot raindrop fell on her ear. She shook her head, setting her mass of curls free from its loose binding. 

She was pretty sure she was still dreaming when he pulled off his shirt. “What are you doing?” 

“Taking off these clothes before they get soaked.” He turned toward her, dropping his trousers without a scrap of embarrassment. 

Blinking, Hermione sat up, holding out a hand to measure the rain. It wasn’t unpleasant, warm and steady. 

“It won’t last long.” Severus stretched, lifting his arms above his head with a groan, and let the rain fall onto his skin, collecting in beads down his back and arms that shone, reflecting in the sunlight. 

Hermione admired the view, for his posture afforded her a generous eyeful of his well-sculpted body. His back was marked with a multitude of well healed scars. She wouldn’t have noticed them had she not been examining him with such interest in daylight. 

A jolt of arousal mixed with alarm ran through her when he cracked an eye open and caught her staring. His smirk should have calmed her, but it had the opposite effect. “Oh.” Was he an exhibitionist now? She hadn’t expected that, given his years of staying tightly buttoned in layers and layers of heavy robes. 

Dropping her eyes downward in modesty proved dangerous, for they were drawn to the trail of dark hair that ended at his groin. There lay his cock in its nest, fair and well made like the rest of him. It responded as though it knew it was being admired, swelling up with well-placed pride. There was a rushing in her ears but if asked, she would have chalked it up to the increase in sound from the waterfall, surging with the runoff from the rain. 

“I think I’ll test out the water.” Severus’ voice was nonchalant, and when he moved she lost eye contact. He stepped into the pool leaving Hermione staring, open-mouthed. 

Overhead the rain fell more heavily, and Hermione was at last galvanized to action, letting the light sheet slip down to her waist. She’d gone without a bra for years, favouring the support charms she’d learned from her dormmates ages ago. Her body was closer to average than awe-inspiring in her own jaundiced opinion, but when she stepped up to stand on a rock that was perfect for jumping from, her mind was not looking for Severus Snape’s opinion. 

She did catch him looking. 

Feeling rather childish, but determined to make the leap anyway, she shouted “incoming!” and aimed for the middle of the pool, mentally taking note of Severus’ position closer to the waterfall. 

When her head broke above water, Hermione sputtered. “Fuck me, that’s colder than Skade’s bits!” She tossed her head back, letting the weight of the cold water pull her hair back from her eyes. “It was warm over there!” 

A rich laugh reoriented her towards Severus, who suggested, “Perhaps that is what Mama had in mind.” 

“There has to be a better way to treat an overstimulated p...pussy.” It was hard to push words out through her chattering teeth. Knowing that Severus was likely to be warm, she made her way over to him. As she approached the falls, the water temperature rose noticeably. _Of course_ , she thought, _the rain is warm._ _Smart Slytherin._

Severus tread water a few meters away, his nose above the waterline. The effect was a trifle unnerving. Hermione didn’t need to work to float because her body was naturally buoyant. She’d always been a good swimmer, a trait she shared with her _Patronus_. 

“Do you need help… warming up?” He’d moved to hold onto a rock that protruded into the pool, raising his head above the water. 

She squinted at him, trying to suss out his mysteries. “You aren’t good at floating, are you?” 

A one-shouldered shrug served as his answer as he continued to watch her expectantly. 

_Right. He doesn’t have much more than sinew and gristle, does he?_ The heat of embarrassment warm her face. _Dammit, Hermione. You are a witch, you don’t have to blush every time you think of a man. Just, relax!_

The natural currents of the warmer water of the falls guided her closer. It was a very slow drift, and she closed her eyes, taking stock. Her bits (as she liked to call them) did feel better. It was odd, how her most sensitive places - the folds between her legs and her nipples were still reporting that it was quite cold, while the rest of her body was warming up. A knot in her neck that she’d developed while napping was releasing its hold. 

“This really is a sacred place, isn’t it?” Her voice sounded distant to her own ears, nearly obscured under the rush of water nearby. 

Nearby, Severus murmured, “Yes, I think so. Lono might have a strong presence today, given his blessings are of lifegiving rains.” 

She hadn’t done much reading into the Hawaiian pantheon. They were now close enough that she could feel the gentle waves of his movement as caresses fluttering on her sides. 

“He is a God who demands peace from his people, and in turn blesses the Island with good crops. Dedicates to Lono are farmers, not hunters or warriors.” 

The wicked man had such power over her, and she bet he knew it. His driest lecturing cadence turned her on. “Mmm. Well, his blessings feel _wonderful_.” Following her instincts, she turned away from him and leaned back, letting her hips and legs float up to the surface. 

The rain had slowed to a light shower, and she didn’t mind the odd drop finding her skin. After an anticipatory moan, she closed her mouth, held her breath, and arched backward, getting rewarded with a toe-curling crack of her back. 

When she resurfaced, she was greeted by a dry chuckle just behind her and to her left. “I should not be jealous of the rain God.” 

Delighting in having his full attention, Hermione wriggled in a way she hoped was inviting. “He is our host, and I am merely expressing my gratitude. Shouldn’t you thank him as well?”

“It does seem fitting to pay respect to Lono.” With the lightest of touches, Severus ran his fingers along her sides. “Being a fertility God.” 

Hermione wriggled as he tickled her. “Ah! Ha haha!” She tried to get a handle on the evil wizard but he was as elusive as an eel and still behind her.

In her distraction, she’d dimly noticed that the falls were getting louder. Those tickling hands firmed, pulling her against his warm chest, setting the back of her head and neck on his shoulder in support. The light was dimmer here under the waterfall, sheltered. 

“I have much to give thanks for. A ticklish wench, tempting me with her fantastic tits. Had you noticed how prettily they sit above the water, aiming straight upwards to the sky?” He nuzzled her neck. “Would you touch them for me, my sweet Nimue? My hands are busy keeping me from drowning.” 

She was panting, caught between a giggling fit and being incredibly turned on. It was a new concept to her, being asked to touch herself in such a way, but it sounded like an exceptional idea. He was steady at her back, bobbing as he worked legs and arms to stay afloat, panting in her ear. His breathing intensified as she cupped the soft flesh of her breasts, the nipples already hard points. 

“Yes… pluck them for me. That’s just..so beautiful.” 

How had she gone twenty eight years and never enjoyed skinny dipping in a sacred pool with the sexiest wizard of her acquaintance? She felt her back arc as she twisted and pinched with the light pressure that she favoured. 

A groan behind her reminded her that she wasn’t alone. “Hermione. Gods, Hermione! I want to see you come. Please, may I...?” 

“Ah! Yes...I want that too!” She pulled away from his shoulder and turned to face him and was a little surprised when he pulled her to him, showing her wordlessly that he wanted her to wrap her legs about his waist. Thinking of entirely the wrong idea, she dropped her mouth to kiss at his ear. “Give it to me. I want you, Severus.” 

She was so preoccupied with the fantasy she’d erected in her mind featuring his talented cock getting inside her _right now_ , she belatedly noticed that he’d carried them closer to the waterfall. The rain had stopped, but the water was still quite warm from the falls in contrast to that of the pool below. 

Not wishing to fall, she clung tighter to him as he found footholds and lifted them both out of the pool. Climbing up the rockface, a feat that impressed her a lot, he deposited her beside the rushing flow of the lowest of the falls. This was a natural outcropping that was comfortable underneath her, complete with a place to brace her foot. It put her deliciously on display. 

Sacred pool, indeed. 

[Art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26017981) by [LunaP999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaP999/pseuds/LunaP999) \- PLEASE make sure to go shower her with praise and keyboard smashing!

Kneeling at her feet, Severus took advantage of his height, reaching up to fondle her breasts as he leaned in to trace the lines of her abdomen with his tongue. 

Hermione loved the feel of his hands on her and leaned back, raising her arms above her head in invitation. She wanted him; all of her was there, waiting for him to consume her. “I want your mouth on my breasts!” 

Cooled by the air on her wet skin, his mouth was as hot as an inferno in comparison. “Merlin, that feels amazing! Harder!” The vibration of his growl against her sent darts of pleasure from her nipples to her clit. She cried out in rapture and then loss as he let her breast go with a pop. 

“I will have to put honey on these later too, I think.” The bastard was grinning at her, completely unrepentant. 

She lifted her right leg and wrapped it around his back and tugged, pulling his attention back to the matter at hand. 

“Oomph, alright. Do you suppose you would like it if…” 

_He was talking. Why was he talking?_

That was enough. Frustrated, she dropped her arms so that she could grab him by the ears. Breathlessly she said, “Shut… up… Sev’rus.”

Latching on to her other neglected nipple, he grasped her wrists and guided them to his shoulders. He was doing a very thorough job, tracing circles about the areola with the tip of his tongue before drawing the erect bit of flesh entirely into his mouth. 

A hum of approval escaped her, and she relaxed her arms upward again. She could not reach more than his head, and she knew that he didn’t really want her using his ears as one might reins, tugging this way and that. 

His hands rested on her thighs. Where before his touches were unhurried and soothing, now his grip was firm to the point that she imagined there might be bruises. 

Severus let go of her second nipple, leaving it deliciously tight and sore. He nuzzled the underside of her breast with his cheek before kissing his way lower. His hands shifted position as he found a better balance, freeing one to part her labia.

Every fibre of her being wanted more. He wanted to see her come and she wanted that too. She didn’t care who heard her, be they nosy deities in their own sacred grottos or voyeuristic mortals. “Oh.. oh.. Please!” 

A boyish grin lit up Severus' face. “Please what, Nimue? Would you like my mouth to sip at your pretty pussy, or shall I use my fingers?” 

Well past reason, she cried, “Yes, anything! Make me come!” 

“As you wish.” He bent to the task with broad strokes of his tongue at first, spreading her swollen inner labia so that he could lick and nibble up and down. A finger pressed downwards, settling in the valley made by the confluence of her folds. Following it inward he pressed a finger past the opening, the relative cold making her quiver. 

“Oh! Oh!” The walls of her pussy tightened like a self-sizing ring, pulling him deeper. “Ohhh!” 

Severus groaned and she could feel the vibration echoing in her bones. He pulled his hand back, adding another finger and she focused on breathing as he advanced, she was sure at least to the knuckle. 

Suddenly she was convinced that she wasn’t going to make it if he didn’t move. “More! P-please!” Pleasure could turn to pain in a heartbeat and she couldn’t take it. 

Twisting his fingers, Severus put pressure on the upper wall of her vagina, moving in and out in swift, precise strokes. 

Surrounded as she was by water, with the juice of her arousal coating the hand and face of her lover, her throat was dry. An odd croak was the best she could offer in encouragement. 

Her hands clutched at the rock, scrabbling for something to grab and hold. 

The sound of the waterfall became hushed in her ears, the pounding of her heart as Severus took her higher and higher was all she knew. Severus could be proposing marriage… the whole island on fire and she’d not care. The entirety of her attention was narrowed down to the approaching cliff of inevitability. 

Hermione’s eyes watched, barely seeing the powerful muscles that moved across Severus’ broad shoulders as he fucked her with his fingers, stretching her wider. 

At last, the onslaught came to a head. She bit her lip, tensing. “Oh GOD!” A flurry of heartbeats later she bucked wildly with a wordless cry as she was overwhelmed with an exquisite mixture of pain and pleasure. Curling her legs up, she yelped when he nudged her clit with his nose. Still twitching with the aftershocks of her powerful orgasm, she found herself sobbing. “Too much.” 

Severus stood, pulling her his arms, nuzzling her gently on the cheek and murmuring words of praise. “You were magnificent, Hermione. Utterly glorious in your passion.” 

Gulping and feeling very out of sorts, she shut her eyes, trying to catch her breath. “You know…” 

“Hmm?” He tilted his head toward her so he might hear her better. 

“Lono might not appreciate us using his waterfall like that.” She shivered, flexing her fingers to encourage the blood flow to return to her hands. 

He chuckled, a sound that she felt more than she heard with the waterfall now back at full volume. “You southerners are always so pent up and proper. Mama practically told us to go at it like nifflers in heat, Hermione.” 

A weak chuckle escaped her. Her bits were reporting back, and they were utterly delighted with his ministrations, not sore like before. She decided that it was high time that she asserted herself. “Well, this witch’s love tunnel is closed for business until further notice.” 

Stroking her hair tenderly, Severus nodded. “I dare not complain. Wouldn’t be proper.” 

He’d capitulated too easily and her annoyance returned to the forefront of her mind. “Do you really have to be so damned perfect?” She grumbled, “NINE to two. I am never going to catch up at this rate.” 

Severus’ hand stilled as he processed the numbers and she drew back to fix him with a pointed glare. Her admonishment did little good. The man could hide secrets for the Queen, but the smugness practically rolled off of him. 

An idea struck her. She could feel the life returning to her limbs, she might be able to move on her own now. 

“Wicked man.” Wriggling, she pushed away from him using the leverage of one foot against the rock wall behind her and the heel of her hand planted with significant force right in Severus’ solar plexus. That sent them both tumbling back into the pool of water with splash. 

She surfaced first and scrambled to put some distance between them. The sound of Severus sputtering as he too righted himself, made her move with a burst of speed. 

Looking over her shoulder, she grinned at his thunderous expression before diving down deep into the water, heading for the far shore and the shallows. She was very fast, and it felt nice after the exertion to stretch out. When she surfaced, he was only a few yards behind her. _Yikes!_

It took her a moment to scramble up out of the water, and grabbing her wand, she turned and launched herself back into the pool, leaving a confused and irritated wizard gawking at her from the shallows. 

“Hermione!?” He spoke her name both with the twin invectives of oath and question. 

Not wishing to lose her slight advantage, she nailed down her urge to reassure him. Floating just out of easy reach, she cast a warming charm on herself. “Stay where you are, _loverboy._ ” Doing her best to project her best lets-be-adults-about-this attitude she continued, “I propose an armistice.” 

Severus hunkered down, balancing on the balls of his feet. The gesture did make it easier for her to look him in the eye, but she had a suspicion that it had just as much to do with protecting his livelihood. “What is the matter of the dispute, so that I may fully participate in…” His lips twitched, betraying his amusement before he continued in a devastatingly sexy purr, “...negotiations.” 

Clearing her throat, Hermione began. “I, being the aggrieved party do declare that I have been denied my just and proper right to explore the, up until last night, unclaimed delights afforded by your person, known as the defendant, Severus Snape.” 

Eyebrows winging up in surprise, Severus lost his balance and ended up falling back onto his rump with a grunt. 

Given it was obvious that he’d heard her, she continued onwards with the matter of her complaint. “For the two times that I have managed to bring you to completion, you have made me come nine times. _Nine._ ” 

He had covered his face with his hands. She took it as a good sign. 

“Furthermore, you have abused my poor cunt into a quivering mass of raw meat with water, mouth, fingers, and not least of all that gorgeous cock of yours, and I have yet to…” 

Severus gave up and began laughing outright, drawing his hands down his face in exasperation. He wasn’t able to meet her eyes yet. 

Determined to finish her statement, she raised her voice, “I have yet to get my mouth or my hands on you. Worse, I haven’t had the privilege of watching you succumb to bliss. It is very unfair, and as a modern witch I cannot allow myself to continue in ignorance of what makes you, Severus Snape, come undone.” 

Gulping for air between jags of laughing Severus waved a hand in permission. “Go on.” 

“As such, until I’ve brought you off with my hands AND I’ve successfully navigated oral negotiations to both of our satisfaction, I propose that you be denied blanket access to my bits. This is necessary for my well-being and satisfaction as a partner in this social contract.” She squared her shoulders and crossed her arms across her chest. “What say you?” 

Sitting upright, Severus took a few long breaths before finally meeting her eyes. She could tell at least that he was not insulted. That was a start. “First, if I may, request some clarifications?” 

Hermione answered that with a single regal nod. 

“Your bits. I assume that you include the outer reaches of the labia, the petals of your inner labia and the pearl hidden within, the clitoris?” 

Gripping herself more firmly, Hermione nodded once. “Vaginal penetration also will be off limits.” 

Setting his elbows to lean upon his knees, Severus steepled his fingers. “And, what of the theoretical occasion wherein I might apply a substance to your body without the intention of increasing sexual arousal?” 

Tapping a finger on her forearm, Hermione gave the notion a moment’s consideration. “I might allow it, but only if permitted to attempt one of my two stated goals first.” 

Lowering his eyelids in what she hoped to be a sign that Severus was using the wits God blessed him with, he asked, “And what if I managed to coax your body to orgasm without involving said witchy bits?” 

She huffed, “I’d like to see you try.” 

“Madam, you have yet to state a position on the use of magic, nor the exploration of the delights of your arse.” He smirked, possibly expecting to shock her. 

It was Hermione’s turn to laugh. “ _New_ avenues such as these should be placed on hold until we have met my stated goals. Thereafter, we can discuss it in detail.” She glanced away in an effort to control the butterflies in her stomach. “My, my. Aren’t you open minded.” When she looked back at him, it was with a new appreciation. 

“Hermione.” Severus raised his hands in an open gesture. “I would not be opposed to,” he cleared his throat, “ _Exploration_ into those deeper mysteries at a later date.” 

“Noted.” She grinned, delighted. Her wizard was conversant with the pleasures of prostate massage. Well acquainted, even, given his lack of embarrassment. “Regarding the use of magic -- I am open to that too, but such territorial expansion should be kept in abeyance, pending on the achievement of my already stated, and might I add...eminently _reasonable_ goals.” 

Severus smiled warmly at her. It did things to her heart to see that openness. It struck her that even in his nakedness, he’d still been hiding things. Before she could consider deeper what that could really mean, he interjected, “If I might make a comment?” 

Enjoying herself thoroughly, Hermione waved royal permission. 

“Being made of mortal flesh, I must admit that there are limits to what I may, as a humble man, achieve. The reason that our so-called tally is so uneven is that it is not possible for any man to match the refractory period of a witch. Some of us can only reach orgasm once every few days. A younger man may, with the aid of a potion, manage up to ten in a 24 hour period, but my personal best is five. Any more and it becomes intensely painful.” He continued to speak in a softer, earnest tone. “As such, I throw myself on the mercy of your good sense.” 

She was aware of the existence of the refractory period, but his limit was a good thing to know, going forward. She would have to do some reading in the near future. Still, she needed to take this conversation just a little further. “An amendment?” 

“Say on.” He grinned back at her. 

“Henceforth, within reason, we shall attempt to maintain an orgasmic ratio of 2:1 acknowledging physiological limitations.” She held up a hand, staying the objection that was no doubt hovering on his lips, “This may be ignored on mutually pre-agreed upon special occasions.” 

He nodded. “I am willing to consent to that, assuming we have the right to re-negotiate in the future.” 

“Naturally.” She pushed herself forward, crossing the water to approach the shore. Hermione was starting to prune up and that was a sign that she’d done more than enough time soaking in Mama’s sacred spring. “Help me up, please.” 

Shifting his weight first to get his feet back underneath him, Severus helped her regain her balance on her beloved terra firma. 

“We should seal the covenant with a symbolic gesture. A kiss would do, don’t you think?” Before she had a chance to cast a drying charm on herself, he pulled her close to his much warmer skin and bent her back into a dip for a long, languid kiss that left her dizzy. 

When at last he broke the kiss, he spoke directly into her ear, cradling her protectively in his arms. “Little witch, I submit myself willingly to your curiosity. Your hunger to know me… your need to give as well as receive astounds me. It is not the usual order of things in my experience.” 

She clung to him, her heart breaking a little because she could hear the pain in his voice, no doubt from the thousands of little cuts he’d taken to his psyche over the course of his remarkably difficult lifetime. 

He lifted his head, meeting her gaze with a brave smile. “No doubt, in time I will adjust. I am so very much looking forward to whatever happens next, Hermione Granger.” 

Having no words, Hermione closed the space to answer him with a tender kiss. His lips were tense at first, but as she persisted with all of the patience she possessed, he relaxed, opening to her with the gentle wonder she expected from an inexperienced lover. 

In that moment, Hermione resolved to slow down and show him the simplest, most fundamental things that all people should know. Kindness. Courtesy. Honesty. All of the kinds of love that led up to and moved beyond the lust of a well-matched wizard and witch. 

While fate brought them together in a clash of intense physical passion, sharing the highest pleasures of their bodies, her wizard hungered for far more. By Merlin and Nimue she would make it her business to feed that appetite until every one of those thousand cuts was healed.

Only then, they both would be satisfied.

She pulled back with what she hoped was not too obviously a tearful smile and chirped, “Why, Master Snape! Is that your wand in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?” 

The look of utter disbelief on his dear face as he repeated one word, “Pocket?” 

Hermione started off with a giggle. She couldn’t believe that she’d just said that to Severus Snape while he was most definitely naked. She tried to rein the hilarity by clamping a hand over her mouth, but the effort only made the situation that much more comical.

Her wizard, wicked as he was, waggled his eyebrows at her in the most ridiculous expression. “Nimue, I am very…” He twitched his hips, pressing his ‘wand’ into her belly for emphasis, “...very happy.”

  
Tossing her head back, Hermione laughed with unbridled joy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I am working on Chapter 7 and have run into some snags, which I hope to have ironed out hopefully by next week. In the meantime, I hope you all enjoyed this! Thanks for reading. I appreciate every one of you, and treasure your comments. Cheers!


	7. Finis les ennuis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you find the kinks? Many are touched upon and none particularly out of the beaten path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for LunaP999 who inspired me with her art. 
> 
> Thanks to Qdrew for her excellent beta expertise and to LunaP999 for beta-ing too even though it was her present.

Hermione lay basking in the Hawaiian sun. Despite the application of a drying charm, her fingers remained crinkled up like prunes; a condition for which sunbathing was the best cure. Severus reclined against a rock nearby, his eyes closed and face turned up to the sky. The gentle rise and fall of his chest soothed her, and his naked body pleased her eyes. 

His skin wasn’t as sickly white as it had been during her years at Hogwarts. She’d half expected the pale wizard she’d known as a schoolgirl to burn, but he’d taken on colour. Abruptly, it occurred to her that there were no tan lines on the man. 

_At all._

Where had he obtained his tan? Was it from a bottle or hard work? Or those muscles? She rather thought the hard way… mmm. Cauldron lugging? There was so much she didn’t know, so much to learn! 

Her own bare skin was just starting to heat past the point of comfort, but Hermione wasn’t ready to move. The pull of gravity was twice as strong here, or so it seemed to her muscles who wanted just five more minutes of rest. 

Mentally taking stock, Hermione turned to make plans for the rest of the afternoon. She wasn’t precisely _hungry_ , but if the report back from her fatigued limbs was any indication, she’d best eat something before she claimed her quality time with Severus’ cock. She already knew first hand that Severus was well-endowed. There was a certain symmetry to it, she mused. That mind, that man, that magic… indeed the Gods’ blessings gathered in abundance in Severus, and she was getting wet in anticipation of this communion. Her eyes and thoughts kept turning back to his cock, like a magnet drawn to iron. Velvet-covered steel, a description used by romance rags her mother read came to mind, a dichotomy of solidity and softness.

As a rule, the flaccid penis looked strange to Hermione. Ron’s had been flobberworm-ish, and his pale skin didn’t help dispel the illusion. She’d unfortunately also had an eye full of Harry’s when they were on the run. Where Ron was long, Harry was thick and... _hairy_. She turned her head to the side, trying to smother her amusement. 

Well. Ginny had no complaints, did she? In fact, Hermione had often wished that she was a little less happy with her love life. It felt strange to listen as the red-head waxed lyrical about Hermione’s brother in all but blood’s finer points, particularly his skill with his wand. 

Wrinkling her nose, Hermione became irritated with her mind, for it was messing up the mood. Harry Potter’s sex life should not have even occurred to her. Pulling on her mental leash, she lifted her head to check and see if Severus was even conscious. 

Intelligent eyes glimmered at her covertly from under Severus’ barely cracked lids. 

_Why is he waaaaaay over there? Might as well be an ocean between us._

Hermione stretched, not bothering to smother her groan as her muscles reported back to her she’d been lying there for too long. 

“Ready for dessert?” Severus was watching with open interest now, and pulled up one of his legs in preparation to lever himself upright. 

Hermione waved him back down. He did not protest when she got up, and when she turned her back to him, he let out a low hum of approval. 

Abruptly, Hermione understood. The wicked man had placed himself in a position where he could watch her. A thrill of excitement chased over her, electrifying her skin. Yes, her libido was back online. 

Lips pulling up in a smile, Hermione held her head high and sauntered over to the picnic basket. When she turned her head to check on him, Severus was still watching her intensely, crossing his long legs at the ankles; a position that interfered with her line of sight. 

Leaning over, Hermione peeked into the basket. “Oooh, is this white fudge?” 

“Haupia, most likely. Coconut, you might like those. I saw malasadas in there too. They are a lot like doughnuts, have you tried those yet?” 

Hermione tried to suppress her grin when she recalled how messy the filling of the fried dough treats could be. “Oh, I think I see what you are talking about. Would you like one?” 

Severus was watching her with hooded eyes. “I will have whatever you are having.” 

“Righto.” The work of moments and simple wandwork later, Hermione pulled the blanket over with her foot before settling down next to Severus in the sun. Plucking one pastry from where it floated in the air, Hermione gestured to the other in silent invitation. She’d neglected to provide a serviette.

A glint of something… _was that admiration?_ softened Severus’ expression as he claimed the second flying pastry. 

It was with caution that Hermione took her first bite. The outside was covered in sugar and cinnamon, and something else. Cardamom? She deliberately avoided the custard. 

As she chewed, she caught Severus watching her. He held his malasada balanced on the fingers of one hand, his hands being large enough to make that practical. He’d waited for her to go first, then leaned in and took an enthusiastic bite of his own. He was every bit as messy as she’d hoped, the yellow custard escaping out the sides of his mouth. 

She couldn’t help it, she giggled. The creme had a yellow tint to it, which only diminished the naughtiness of her thoughts by a very little. 

He narrowed his eyes at her in silent censure. Severus didn’t like being laughed at. 

A thrill of anticipation shot through her as she stilled, waiting to see how he would respond. Her hand holding her malasada had halted in its progress, and her heartbeat picked up, thrumming with excitement. 

His lips tilted up in a lopsided smirk as he tapped his cheek with a finger. “I thought you were hungry for dessert.” 

“I am. I adore pastries with creamy fillings.” She licked her lips with a rush of triumph. Severus’ eyes had widened in response, so she let her gaze travel down to the corner of his lip. “What flavour is it?” 

Pink and pointed, the tip of his tongue darted out to clean off a corner of his mouth. He put on a feigned expression of deep contemplation before answering, “Passion fruit.” 

The way Severus treated every syllable, every sound with precision in that voice got Hermione’s juices flowing. Her focus was thrown, and the sneaky man knew it. She licked her lips, a multitude of appetites piqued, warring with one another. How was she ever to choose from the endless possibilities that spiralled outward, a veritable banquet. 

Smirking, he took another careful bite. He still had some cream on the other corner of his mouth.

It was with a conscious effort that she ripped her eyes away from that erotic sight. “Fuck. How are you that sexy eating a doughnut, Severus? I will henceforth be a rubbish conversationalist over meals!” 

That got him laughing too. “I am a terrible man.” 

“You tried to warn me.” She kept her tone light, for she had no wish to go into the past. “I happen to like that about you.” Swallowing down the impulse to crawl over to him and lick his lips clean, she took a bite, one that was intentionally deep enough to breach the centre. 

He’d tilted his head to the side and looked away, his hair dry enough to swing into his face. It didn’t hide the bit of colour that had crept into his cheeks. 

Deciding that he needed more of a distraction, she hummed her approval of the tart flavour that burst across her tongue, tempered by the richness of the sweet cream. “Oh, that’s fantastic.” 

Some filling dripped from where Severus’ malasada hung suspended, forgotten in favour of watching her. It dripped onto his fingers and dotted his chest. He did not notice; it seemed. 

It felt amazing to have this particular wizard’s full attention on her. She delicately pulled another bite off of her malasada with her teeth. 

A groan from Severus made Hermione’s innards tremble. He gave her a pained look. “I am in agony, Nimue. I have agreed to hold myself in check until we have met the terms of our treaty. Such teasing is a cruelty I had not thought to look for from you.” 

Swallowing her bite, Hermione lowered her pastry to answer his accusation, “Cruelty! I would _never_. I prefer to think of it as justice. A balancing of the scales. You have given more pleasure than you have taken, and I am merely giving you a _taste_ of your own treatment.” 

“No court would agree with you, Nimue. You are teasing me. It is torture to have you so alluringly near and not be able to touch you.” His eyelids lowered to quarter mast and so too he dropped the timbre of his voice as he continued, “You make me hungry to taste you, to relish the sounds of delight that I can draw from you in your ardour.” 

A sigh escaped from her throat. His voice alone was setting her on fire yet again. If she didn’t do something, she would lose control of the situation. 

“Hermione…” 

A spark of indignation flared to life, its sharp edges cutting through the enthralling fog of arousal that he’d been weaving about her. “ _Severus._ ” She cleared her throat and then focused on the malasada in her hand. “Wicked man. You are only making this worse on yourself.” 

He laughed, shaking his head to clear the hair from his face. “Shall I throw myself on the mercy of the court?” 

She answered in between bites with a lift of a shoulder. “Won’t do much good, will it? I already won. You agreed. Accept your fate like the honourable wizard we both know you are.” 

“Damn. Well, I suppose I will have to seek better counsel next time.” He noticed the mess on his fingers and chest. “Look what I’ve done.” 

Hermione popped the last bit of her malasada into her mouth with a grin. “I could help you with that...” Her words stopped short when he summoned his wand with a subtle and silent movement of a wrist. “Wait!” 

“What now, witch?” He held his wand in a relaxed grip, a contrast to the tense annoyance in his voice. 

Leaning forward, Hermione looked him over. “You are naked. Where exactly were you keeping your wand?” 

His eyes flitted up to where she’d pinned back the hair framing her face, using her wand to hold it in place. “Hidden, safe.” He was tense, guarded perhaps by reflex. 

“ _Severus_.” She shifted her weight back, looking him over carefully. It struck her at that moment how deeply his habits were ingrained. The lessons learned in suffering. Well, she enjoyed teaching, didn’t she? Time for a new lesson. “I do not need to know. Keep that secret.” She touched the tip of his wand with a gentle finger, pushing it away from her chest. “I trust you.” 

Those words worked powerful magic of their own. Those dark eyes became suspiciously bright, and his grip on his wand slackened. 

Encouraged by his reaction, her confidence grew, and she continued, “I ask questions. It is part of my nature, of who I am. You are fascinating to me, and I want to know you better. I hope you know me well enough to understand that I won’t turn from you, Severus Snape, if you don’t want to answer all of my questions, or you are not ready.” She summoned a smile, hoping that he would see the sincerity and hear how much he meant to her already. “I will be patient. You are worth it.” 

He stared at her for a long, heart-wrenching moment before he leaned forward and answered her with a kiss. Instead of the heated passion of their earlier kisses, this kiss was surpassingly tender. It made her want to wrap herself around him and never let go. 

When they broke the kiss, they sat with their foreheads touching. Unable to contain herself, Hermione whispered, “You are worth it, Severus.” 

Severus’ lips tightened, and she could see that he had trouble with this. His voice was rough when he spoke, “Hermione…” 

“Shh. Hold still, Love.” She took advantage of his confusion to lick off the corner of his lip, removing the escaped custard. “Mm. Delicious too.” 

When she pulled back, she became concerned. Severus stared at her, unseeing. Silent. That expression reminded her of a similar moment last night, when she had been exploring him, kissing her way down his chest. He opened his mouth, and she just knew he was about to say something painful, so she stopped him with a finger to his lips. 

Taking in a fortifying breath, Hermione said, “Don’t say it. We will have to agree to disagree until I convince you.”

“Convince me?” He dropped his wand arm down to his side, his brow drawn together in bewilderment. 

“Yes. To my point of view.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Perhaps you prefer another word for it. Cajole. Inveigle. Sway. Persuade.” She used a patented Lavender move and bounced on her heel just enough to make her breasts move for emphasis. _“Induce.”_

A dry bark of laughter answered her. “Seduce is more like.” 

Smiling widely, Hermione leaned forward a fraction. “Already you add to my arguments. A gullible wizard would have fallen for it immediately.” 

“What makes you think I haven’t?” Severus reflected her grin, his amusement smoothing away the lines of tension around his eyes. 

“Mmm.” Dipping her head down, Hermione licked away the dot of custard that had fallen onto his chest. “You are still capable of organising words into intelligible sentences. I shall have to work harder.” 

“Obviously.” His lips curved into a familiar Snape-ish smirk. He held up what remained of his malasada, his grin turning rueful as he surveyed the damage. The pastry had flattened in his grip, disgorging an enticing rivulet of custard down his wrist. “Well, that’s bobbins.” 

Shrugging, Hermione pulled his wrist up to her mouth and ignoring the pastry, used her tongue to clean up the cream. She didn’t need to feign enjoyment; it was delicious, particularly the way Severus’ eyes clouded as she worked. 

“Fuck, witch.” He’d dropped the pastry, and it rolled away. 

Neither of them appeared to care all that much for the patisserie. Now that Severus’ hand was empty, she applied her lips and tongue to clear away the sugar and spice that stained all five of his fingertips. 

As she sucked his third finger clean, he gasped. It was a needy sound that would have made her wet her knickers if she were wearing any. 

Severus cupped her face with both hands, pulling her in closer for a searing kiss. Hermione could hardly keep track of where she ended and he began, and she melted into him with a sigh. He tasted of spice and passionfruit cream and desire. 

As the kiss continued, she deliberately slowed the pace from rapid boil down to simmer. It would simply not _do_ to allow him to explode quickly. Smiling inwardly, she pulled away and stood, pointing to the centre of the blanket, “Shift over, please.” 

Making a show of grumbling, he moved fully onto the blanket. 

Her foot nudged up against something. Crouching down, Hermione reverently picked up the ebony length of wood that was Severus’ wand. It was elegantly shaped and somewhat longer than she’d expected. If she had to, she’d guess it was 15 inches. Tiny carved snakes swarmed together in a perfect interlocking weave, forming a firm grip. The detail of the work was exquisite.

When she looked up, Severus was sitting with his arms resting on his knees. The smile that had taken the place of his trademark scowl was bittersweet. 

“You never changed wands, have you?” It was an inane question, one that she regretted as soon as it left her lips. 

Little crinkles formed at the corners of his eyes, but it was difficult for her to tell if it was pain or amusement that inspired them. “No.” He made no move to reclaim it.

Tentatively, Hermione brought it up to her lips, and she pressed a light kiss to its tip. Closing her eyes, she reached out with her senses, opening herself to magic. Some people, like Luna and Sybill Trelawney, could see magic. She’d discovered that Professor Flitwick described magic as a sound, resonant or dissonant depending on what was being done with it. To her, it was more nebulous: a feeling, perhaps best described as a scent. 

It wasn’t as clear as Amortentia — she could not put names to the scent of the magic wafting from the wand in her hand, or the wizard sitting deceptively placid before her. It was complex, a mixture of spices she instinctively associated with darkness highlighted with a clean, stringent smoke and the brilliance of harnessed lightning. Power. If she had to use one word, that would be the right one. 

Opening her eyes, she met Severus’ level gaze with a shy smile. Hermione feathered her lips along the shaft of the wand. It startled her when a shower of golden sparks burst from its tip. They died before they hit the blanket.

“Easy, lad.” The corners of Severus’ mouth crooked up with open amusement. 

Feeling oddly flattered, Hermione considered for a moment what to do next. “Would you like him back?” 

Severus took in a deep breath before saying, “No. Unless you expect I’ll need magic for what comes next?” 

“I’ll leave it here, where you can see it.” She set his wand down on the rock that he had been using to prop himself up. After a moment’s consideration, she pulled her wand from her hair and lay it next to his. Where his wand was dark, her beech wand was bright in comparison; far simpler than her original wand of vinewood. Hermione thought they looked well next to each other. 

When she turned, Severus looked back up at her with a strange light in his eyes. His broad shoulders curved forward in a defensive posture, and while he propped his arms casually on his knees, his fingers curled in on his palms into fists. 

Hermione’s heart clenched, and after a moment’s hesitation, she knelt beside him. With the gentlest of touches, she smoothed her fingers over the angular lines of his cheeks and jaw. Using her thumbs, she traced the fine arch of his brows before circling down to massage his temples. 

Degree by degree, Severus relaxed, letting his eyelids droop in pleasure as she applied more pressure. When she laced her fingers into his still-damp hair, he let out a deep hum, the pitch resonating at the lowest edge of hearing. 

A faint smile played over Severus’ lips, and he tilted his head back, leaning into her touch and forcing her to extend her arms farther forward. 

“Do you like firm touches with your massage, Severus?” Hermione’s hands, used to wielding quill and wand, were nimble where Severus’ hands were strong. She wanted to learn his body and what he liked. 

Opening his eyes languidly, Severus answered, “I like your touch, Hermione.” 

“I should hope so!” She concentrated her attention on the muscles at the base of his skull, where they met his neck. Her thighs complained about the work needed to keep her from tipping over as her knees dug into Mama’s blanket. 

He warmed the curve of her hips distractingly with his hands. Determined to maintain her concentration, she continued to work her way downward, thumb walking up and down his neck. Under her fingers, his tension melted to putty. 

Severus’ grip on her hips loosened, and with a groan, his head drooped forwards until his forehead came to a rest on her chest. 

The position gave her better access to his neck and his densely muscular shoulders, where she switched to the use of the heels of her hands and longer strokes. As she moved, his hair brushed lightly against her breasts. The urge to climb onto his lap was becoming difficult to ignore. 

Severus interrupted her thoughts, expanding his lungs with a slow, conscious inhalation. Slowing her work, Hermione listened for the exhalation that followed. 

The heat of his breath skimmed down her belly, awaking an ache between her legs anew. 

Instinctively, when he took his next breath, Hermione followed suit. His arms shifted, encircling her waist in a loose embrace, and he turned his head to rest his ear against her chest. 

As her hands worked his upper back in wider, sweeping circles, it was easy to drop a kiss to the crown of his head. 

Their breaths were in sync now. A feeling of rightness pooled in her chest. If it weren’t for the burn of fatigue in the muscles of her thighs, made worse as she supported both Severus’ and her own weight, she would have prefered to stay like this forever. She reminded herself that she had plans, and she would not relent. 

Severus let out a low growl of complaint when she stopped rubbing his back.

She tucked her feet beneath her in a more comfortable position, deciding to write Mama a heartfelt thank you for the blanket later, and turned to stroke his hair with gentle touches. It was as fine as acromantula silk, and in the sunlight, she could see threads of silver hidden amongst the inky black. Regretting the necessity of breaking their embrace, she ducked her head and whispered in his ear, “Would you lie down for me, Severus?” 

Instead of answering verbally, he picked up his head and cast a glance behind him. Finding the way clear, he raised his eyes to hers with an inscrutable expression. As she opened her mouth to ask what he was about, he tipped his head up with a smirk. Severus leaned backwards as she’d asked, neglecting to let go of his hold about her waist. 

A squeak of surprise escaped Hermione, ending in a soft oof as her face ended up smashed into his chest. 

When she lifted her head to glare at him, he looked back at her with feigned innocence. The silent rippling of his belly belied his wide eyes and steady gaze. Laughing, he was _laughing_ at her! 

“Stop that. Who is the naughty one now?” She pushed herself up to a sitting position, straddling his belly. 

He waggled his brows. “Am I supposed to answer that?” His hands had snuck up to cup her bum, and as if to illustrate his depravity, he gave her a good squeeze — hard enough that Hermione squealed. 

“This is insupportable!” She crossed her arms over her chest. Her hair was long enough that it could go past her shoulders when allowed to hang down like this, but it wasn’t quite enough to provide modesty. “Naughtiness has its place. Until I am satisfied, you’d best heed me well, Severus Snape.” 

To Hermione’s shock, Severus _blushed_. She had to bite her tongue, vigorously, to maintain her composure. It was worth it, for the heat in his eyes spoke volumes to her. “And what would you have me do?” After he’d pushed those words out, his lips remained parted. 

She said, “Put your hands behind your head and keep them there.” This was a simple request, deceptively so, and Hermione watched as his Adams’ apple bobbed in a reflexive swallow. 

Severus cleared his throat and complied, giving her a view of his powerful arms. “How long…” 

Huffing, Hermione tilted her head in mock exasperation. “Until I say otherwise.” 

“I see. And are there any other expectations?” He flexed his arms as though testing his bonds, though there were none. 

Careful, Hermione gentled her tone. “Severus, I expect you to tell me if you are uncomfortable — I will stop, I promise. I don’t want to hurt you.” She paused, to smile winsomely before adding, “I adore the sound of your voice, love.” 

A snort of disbelief answered her, but he’d settled into the appearance of comfort. She reminded herself that this man was about as passive as a hungry tiger, waiting for its prey to drink at the water’s edge. 

The thrill of excitement electrified Hermione. It was all she could do to avoid crooning aloud, Good Kitty. Shifting forward, she lifted her weight off of him and onto her arms so that she could claim a kiss. It started slowly, Severus allowing her to taste his mouth. 

Her passion blossomed as he opened to her, relaxing into her touch. There were traces of the passionfruit and cinnamon sugared pastry, but his flavour was rich, decadent in his own right. Not sweet or sour, there was a tang that was as satisfying as cold water after working in her mother’s garden. 

She opened her eyes and broke away from the kiss, winded. Merlin! Was she a simple schoolgirl who’d forgotten to breathe? How did he do that, just lying there? 

Severus’ gaze was intense, watching her. 

Lips curling up in a smile, Hermione dragged her mind back onto her task. Part of her wanted to toss her self-assigned mission into the volcano, but it was too important to her. 

Her unruly hair hung down around them in a shoddy imitation of the bed hangings from Hogwarts’ dorms. She reached up to twist it out of the way, sitting back on her heels. 

“Don’t!” Severus’ eyes darted to where her hands clutched in her curls. When she didn’t answer, he expanded on the request in soft tones, almost lost in the babble of the nearby waterfall. “I like your hair, leave it down, please.” 

Feeling absurdly flattered, Hermione said, “Okay.” On impulse, she bent her head and placed a tender kiss on his brow, smoothing a lock of his hair back from his face when she pulled back. He was hers to care for, hers to _adore_. 

The way he was looking at her was doing things to her insides, roiling with arousal, her skin heating as wave after wave washed over her. He pulled her in with his impossibly dark eyes, making her nearly forget what she was about to do. “You aren’t using… you aren’t projecting, are you?” She knew what legilimency felt like, and this wasn’t the same. 

The heat dissipated abruptly, as though he’d cast a _Finite_. Severus turned his head away, and his cheeks tinged pink. “Apologies. It… it was not intentional.” 

Hermione leapt to stop him and said what came to mind, “Fascinating.” 

Those black eyes snapped back to hers, so quickly on the defensive. “Hermione!” 

She placed her hand over his mouth. “Shh. It is all right, Severus.” She looked down at him, the possibilities crowding her mind, each new thought clamouring for attention louder than the last. “I… think that it might take some getting used to, but I don’t mind.” It was her turn to blush; the heat that burned in her face was different and her own. “I do have some small skill in occlumency.” 

His eyes were shuttered as he answered, “I have better control than this.” 

Voice stern, Hermione stopped him there. “Don’t you dare hide from me, Severus Snape!” She’d put her hands on her hips, but it occurred to her belatedly that the effect was not what she’d intended given the lack of clothes. 

Severus dragged his eyes from her tits back up to her face. “Are you certain?” 

For the second time that afternoon, Hermione gave her trademark huff of derision. “Need I dignify that with an answer?” She consciously relaxed, letting her fingers trail over his chest. 

He remained silent, his chest still under her hands. 

“I am certain that I want to know you better, Severus. I meant what I’d said. You are fascinating to me, and I maaaaaay have accepted the Society’s invitation just to have the chance to see you again.” 

The way he gasped at her admission made her glad she’d answered frankly. “Hawaii is beautiful. She lifted a hand from his chest to wave at the lush glade, continuing, “But this is not what I travelled across the world to see.” 

Severus’ arms jerked in reaction, but the next moment he’d mastered himself and closed his eyes. Perhaps it was cruel of her, but she didn’t release him. She tormented him a little more. “Last night was my wildest dream made true.” Feeling the mood was right, she let her fingertips graze his nipples with the lightest of touches. 

“Fuck, witch!” He lifted up his head and was staring at her with a complicated series of shifting emotions. “Merlin’s balls, do you want me to plead? It is all I can do to hold back. I want to bury myself deep inside you while you sing out in pleasure.”

Smirking, she swirled her fingers around his areolas, coaxing them to crinkle up into tight nubs. “Oh, yes, Severus, that sounds wonderful. But first, we have an agreement to fulfil.” 

He dropped his head back to the blanket with an agonised groan. 

Hermione started gently, increasing the pressure as she pinched and tugged at the points of his nipples, watching him grimace in what she hoped was pleasure. When she let go, she had her answer. Her thighs, already happily in contact with the muscles of Severus’ abdomen, had to support her weight for her knees had lifted off of the blanket. _Is this intentional?_

Experimentally, Hermione leaned back and applied pressure with her knees. It accidentally brought her bum into contact with the tip of his cock, and he bucked in surprise. That brought them both back down to the blanket. “You were doing that on purpose. Naughty!” 

A ragged whine escaped his throat. “Hermione…” 

“Not now, Severus.” Not wanting to fall for that again, she dismounted and turned to kneel at his side. She almost giggled aloud at the irritated scowl that twisted his features. _Not what you were hoping for, bucko me lad?_

She didn’t like losing her comfortable seat much either, but a witch had to do what a witch had to do. Surveying her wizard, she saw that he was still at full attention. His nipples remained upright; their tan pinked up with the attention she’d paid them. Using her nails, Hermione grazed a path down his sides, delighting in the way he responded with a jump and tension. 

He was still glaring at her, silently. She half expected him to take points, or assign detention. Whatever was going through his mind, she knew there would be some form of retribution later. “Tsk tsk. Such a sour face. Is there something you’d like to say?” 

The way his lips tightened suggested there was a lot he was holding back. 

Trying for a disarming wheedle, she said, “Don’t you like it when I play with your chest?” 

His face went blank, a partial victory. “You know I do, little witch.” He snapped out the words with the tone of a highly offended wizard, punctuating it with a frustrated growl that had no teeth. 

She changed her caresses, switching from nails to open hands tracing his sides from lateral obliques over to his external obliques. “You have wonderful musculature, Severus. Do all Potions Masters get such luscious definition in their Serratus Externa from wrangling cauldrons?” 

His glare did not alter as he shot back. “So it’s to be an interrogation? Torture is not sufficient to your purpose?” 

“You would think that, wouldn’t you? Well, I don’t know why I’d expect this to be easy. You are a difficult man to compliment, Severus.” She dug her fingers into the valleys along his ribs, nestling into the aforementioned Serratus. “These were made for a woman’s fingers. They fit…” She used her thumbs to brush his nipples with the delicacy of a billiwig’s wings, and sighed, “...perfectly.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his legs flex, and she imagined that perhaps with a little more work, she might even get his toes to curl. Licking her lips, she moved her hands back down the tense muscles of his belly. 

“Aikido.” The sting in his glare was absent, and what should have been a point of pride sounded like a simple given. The discipline was deceptively tricky, for it strived to avoid harm to one’s opponent while also defending oneself. 

It took a moment for Hermione to fully process the new information, but her mouth seemed to be in charge. “That’s amazing. It makes complete sense. You have always been so fast.” The little grey cells began firing and stopped her tongue from babbling on. Her groin, however, understood the new intelligence _perfectly_. The mental image of this graceful man practising forms had upped the ante and had her gushing with more than admiration. 

Taking a cleansing breath, she said, “Stay right there. Be back in a moment.” Severus’ smirk disappeared as he watched her get up. 

She didn’t want to risk a wandless spell, so she walked over and retrieved the bottle of oil he’d used on her earlier. Instead of retaking her place at his side, she put a foot into the space between his legs. Hermione was pleased when he opened to her, giving her the space she’d wanted without making her ask. “Do you want a foot rub, Severus?” 

“You can rub whatever part of me you want, Hermione. I am here on your sufferance and for your pleasure. _I_ could rub… aaaahn!” 

Idly Hermione decided to have a little fun, so as he kept nattering on, she ran one of her nails up the inside of his thigh. His left bollock pulled up into his scrotum with a jaunty bounce. 

Severus’ eyebrows winged up in disbelief. “Really? _Really._ You get me right where you want me, and you test my reflexes? Granger, you are a proper swot, top of your form. There is no doubt of it in my mind.” 

His right leg was tense, but that didn’t stop the cremaster reflex from working on that side too. “Well, if you take good care of me, I won’t tell anyone about the time I made your nuts dance the hula in Hawaii.” 

“You’d dare!?” The sheer ridiculousness of the situation broke through Severus’ manufactured outrage, and he broke into jags of hearty laughter. 

Feeling smug, Hermione scooted back to take his feet into her lap. Dousing her hands with oil, she studied her wizard. He still kept his arms above his head as she’d asked, but he was relaxing. That was what she needed for the next phase. 

Starting with his littlest toes, she rubbed each one in succession, spending more time on his great toes, one after the other. By the time she’d finished kneading the tension from the balls of his feet, he was watching her from under hooded lids. The faintest suggestion of a smile played about his lips. 

It struck her that she’d never seen him this way, at his ease. It warmed her heart, and she resolved to do what she could to bring him to this state as often as possible. 

She used her palms to massage his legs using long strokes, first applying more oil so she didn’t catch his leg hair. This was an area where she lacked experience and was trying to remember what he’d done for her earlier, frequently checking his face to be sure he was alright. 

By the time she’d finished working his quadriceps on the right, his breathing was low and even, and he was timing his breaths with Hermione’s movements. Lightening her touch,she changed to using both hands on each leg, passing long strokes from hip to knee and back again. 

On the next pass, Hermione initiated a deep inhalation, gathering up the energy of the waterfall and the subtle magic drifting off of the wizard under her hands. Without pausing she let the breath out again, consciously pushing out the nascent whispers of love she’d been cultivating for him. When she inhaled, Severus followed her lead, the connection between them growing stronger. The last pass she ended by bowing her head to exhale over his groin. 

Severus was watching her with intensity. When she looked away, she imagined that she could feel his eyes on her bare skin as she completed the circle. 

Shifting her legs, Hermione levered herself from her knees into a sitting position. She wanted to savour this, and she wasn’t going to let the shivery burning in her thighs distract her. 

While she was not educated in massage, she was very well-read in what Ron used to refer to as wand-polishing. That is not to say she would claim to have a vast depth of experience, but she’d managed to translate the printed word to practice with ease with other men. 

“May I touch you, Severus?” She knew that she’d already had an abundance of evidence of his interest, but it felt necessary. He was a wizard who appreciated following the forms, after all. 

Silently, Severus nodded his assent, keeping his wide, impossibly dark eyes trained on her face.

Carefully, Hermione placed her left hand over his cock and her right over his heart, focusing more fully on her man.

Half-hard after the prolonged massage his cock swelled to life. Hermione watched in fascination as, akin to a flower pushing up from her garden in the spring, his glans pushed clear of the foreskin, glistening with dew. “Oh Severus, I can’t wait to get your cock in my mouth.” She licked her lips, for it wouldn’t do to drool on the wizard. 

After a thoughtful pause, he answered with lilting playfulness, “Don’t let me delay you. I am your willing servant, as we agreed.” He meant to mock, but the breathless quality to his voice told her a different story.

Schooling her features to calm, she cupped her palm and poured out a generous measure of the oil, warming it and dividing it between both hands. 

Overhead in the lush forest canopy, a [bird sang](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=65wNGOXAI6Y), its sweet trilling answered by another in the distance. *

Starting at his thighs, she used her palms in wide sweeping strokes that crested at his hips and back down his adonis belt before turning to cup his bollocks, spreading the oil generously over the delicate skin. As she slowly slipped her fingers downward to coat the rest of his perineum, she watched Severus’ face. His lips parted, and his breathing had changed, shallow and swift. _Interesting._ She stilled her hand, short of touching the crinkled skin that waited, deeper still. 

“All right there?” she asked, lifting his scrotum gently. 

Severus shut his eyes and muttered through a tight grimace. “Her… Hermione, don’t stop. Flaming fucks sake, woman, for the love of all that’s holy… unnnh.” 

Smiling in delight, Hermione gave him a light squeeze before letting her other hand slide down to tease the puckered ring of his anus. 

He tipped his head back with a strangled cry of mixed shock and pleasure. His cock, already fully erect, bounced in reaction as a new rush of blood flooded in. 

She felt the echoes of his reaction pulsating in the sphincter beneath her fingers. Hermione reminded herself that she was going to have to be very careful, otherwise he might come too quickly. 

With regret, she lightly drew her two fingers back up his taint, shifting her focus to his balls. “You are a handful.” Firm and vaguely egg shaped, she rolled each in the palms of her hands, avoiding contact with her nails. 

Shifting her hands, she used light pressure with her fingertips to pull from the root of his taint upwards, drawing his bollocks away from his body. As she handled him, the scent of his musk intensified, briny with a hint of sex. The dew-like drop of precum that she’d noticed perched on his knob expanded, weeping with excitement. 

“Christ on a crutch, Granger!” Severus had fisted his hands in his hair, “Shit!”

Taking in a deep breath, Hermione released him with an opening of her palms, using the backs of her hands to encourage him to open his legs wider. She took a moment to admire his toned legs, a veritable symphony of power and form. 

Severus let his hips relax, casting her a dirty look. His chest wall shuddered with irregular breaths as he worked to get control of himself. 

To Hermione, learning Severus in this fashion was as fascinating as delineating an up until now undiscovered Arithmantic law. She watched him, lowering her head to kiss the inside of his thigh, rubbing her cheek against it. Her hands lay on either side of his groin, open and palm up. 

Once his breathing began to slow, she applied a little more oil to her hands and considered what to do next. He was still hard, but his cock had relaxed a fraction, hovering parallel with the plane of his abdominal muscles. As though it could sense her regard, it twitched.

“Mmm.” Carefully, as one might attempt to pick up a poisonous adder, Hermione lightly wrapped her hands around the shaft, interlocking her fingers loosely as though she were guiding a broom. She watched him closely as she tightened her grip.

A soft moan escaped Severus, wordless and yet lyrical. When she didn’t move, he closed his eyes and expelled a quick breath through pursed lips. 

Using firm pressure, she waited, getting accustomed to the heat of him. She could feel his heartbeat pulsing through the engorged length, and in answer, her own bits began pulsing between her legs. 

Lips parting, he inhaled slowly and let his eyes open. Severus met her scrutiny with renewed focus, and a corner of his lips tugged up in a smirk. 

Hermione’s imagination leapt to fill in the blank spaces, wondering what he was thinking for a fleeting moment. Merlin’s saggy britches, what that wizard could do to her with his eyes. She started a list in her mind, placing _blindfold_ at the top.

That smirk deepened, her only warning as he did something to make his cock twitch more meaningfully in her hands. A wave of emotion, one that she recognised as not her own, fanned the embers of her desire as if she wasn’t already positively smoking. 

The Slytherin bastard was nudging her. 

“I won’t be hurried, love.” She squared her shoulders and slowly blinked, concentrating on erecting her shields. When Hermione opened her eyes she was in full command of herself. “I have been looking forward to this.” 

For emphasis, and perhaps a little revenge, Hermione opened her mouth and ran the tip of her tongue along her teeth. It was gratifying to see Severus’ smirk fall away, to watch his eyes widen again with open longing. A weaker man would have begged, but not her Severus. 

Satisfied that she had his attention, she released all but the pads of her thumbs and forefingers, which she squeezed down to the root of his cock with deliberate pressure which she released immediately. Shifting up his shaft a few millimetres, she repeated the move and continued working her way up the shaft with symmetrical light pinches, reminiscent of shiatsu massage. As she worked her way up to the glans she gentled her touches to feather-light pressure, releasing him entirely before moving her hands back downward. 

This time, she alternated her two-fingered grips as though she was climbing his cock with her hands, which she was in a sense, for he was once again standing upright and proud. Severus relinquished his attempt at manipulation and let his head rest on his arms with his face tilted up to the azure sky above. 

Using her thumb, she gently traced a straight line from the crease of his scrotum to the base of his shaft, then on a whim continued the path to complete the rune that vaguely resembled a “P”, wunjo. It made sense to the still-functioning part of her brain who was watching silently at the back — both as benediction and warning; joy, pleasure, upwards to heavenly ecstasy but at the risk of pushing too far. Her thumbs each in their turn traced out the same path, moving continuously. 

Severus let out a soft sigh, and a subtle shift in his posture told her that he was sliding back into a relaxed state; her wizard was at ease. 

Judging the timing was right, Hermione returned her attention to the shaft of his cock, wrapping her fingers around in and setting her thumbs side by side. Slowly and applying moderate pressure, she moved her right thumb upwards. Once it reached the head, she moved her left whilst pulling her right back downward, so they passed one another midway. “Your cock is a natural wonder.” The thickness of his shaft felt almost too full for one of her hands but was perfect for two, and she told him so. 

“I warrant that I fit perfectly inside more of you than just your hands, witch.” 

Heat returned to Hermione’s face as her imagination filled in the blanks. “As we have already proven several times, you beast.” Her bits reported back that they wouldn’t be averse to another go right now with a flutter of excitement. 

He opened his eyes. When they made eye contact, he throbbed in her hand. “Something about you, Hermione…” He gasped when she changed her stroke to one that more closely resembled wringing out water from her hair, both hands rotating back and forth. After a few huffs of breath, he gathered his wits well enough to finish his statement, “I can’t stop wanting you. I need to explore you, to bring you to a boil and make you transform, nay... _transcend_ to Nimue undone.” 

“Wicked man. You seek to ensnare me, to distract me from my purpose.” Hermione shifted her weight, glad that magic would easily get out stains. Severus could make her sopping wet with just his voice, and poor Mama didn’t need to see the evidence. 

Severus’ smile was crooked and fleeting, replaced by a slack-jawed groan of pleasure as she changed to using one hand to give attention to the exposed head of his penis with a twisting gesture. Swollen and standing proud, she steadied his length with her off hand. 

“Witch, I’m going…” Severus panted, “...to…” his face was screwed up in a rictus that was a fair counterfeit of pain. 

Hermione fisted the head of his cock, applying as much pressure as she dared, delaying just before her lover reached the moment of inevitability. “Breathe, love.” 

It took longer this time for him to regain his breath, his strangled grunts easing to soft sighs that allowed him to expand his chest fully. His eyes remained unfocused, his head tossing from side to side in what Hermione belatedly recognised as a symptom of frustrated arousal, the cost of holding himself back. _Perfect._

Before he fully settled, Hermione shifted herself back and ducked her head. She wanted to taste him, already his musk filled her nose with his maleness, whetting her appetite. Taking a moment to praise the Gods that he was not terribly hairy she poked out her tongue and gently licked the delicate skin of his sac from root to shaft. 

Severus’ sex was seasoned with the salted tang of male sweat with a clean finishing hint of sweetness, garnished with his renewed inarticulate cries. “Merlin… oh fuck… oh… I am going to do such things… AH!” 

Taking one of his balls into her mouth, she held him there, working her tongue gently about the sensitive organ before letting it go in favour of its brother. They seemed heavier but also tighter than when she’d held them in her hands. Around her, she sensed his legs drawing upward, the muscles trembling with the effort of staying still. 

Hermione’s mouth was watering as she let his sac slip out of her mouth. “Severus you are so hot, laying there shivering and panting, just for me.” 

His cock stood upright and twitched as if in an unspoken invitation, which it may as well have been as his velvet voice was too choked with need to form words, “Her…” 

She’d already decided. There was no space for debate in this, no reason to deny them both what was needed. “Hold on, Love. Just a little farther, I want to ride you.” 

With eyes clouded over with desire, Severus lifted his head and looked at her before dropping back down with a faint groan. 

Satisfied that he was still at least marginally in control, Hermione dipped her head and took his cock into her mouth, cupping her tongue to hug him as she took in as much of his length as she was able. As she did this, Severus shouted, “Fuck! Hermione… so fucking.... ungh!” 

Closing her eyes, Hermione did her best to focus. She was moving carefully and had to put a hand down to steady herself as she bobbed her head, adding in a swirl here and there. She had found a natural harmonic, a rhythm that until now her Arithmantically inclined mind only theorised as possible. Cracking an eye open, she nearly swallowed him down whole in her surprise.

Severus was floating, his entire body hovering several inches above the blanket. He wasn’t just levitating, for his hair floated as though suspended in water. Weightless. One and one was four in Snape-world it appeared if he willed it. The very laws of gravity bent to his whims. Of course, she hadn’t forgotten that the man could _fly_. 

Was he even aware of what he was doing? His hands were still behind his head, the muscles of his arms and neck standing up in cords with the tension. 

She pulled her mouth away from his cock, pausing to worry the engorged head back and forth over her lips and tongue before releasing him to glance back behind her. Their wands still lay side by side in plain view.

Pressing him down by the hips, Hermione swung one leg over and then the other, using her body weight which was still tied to the earth by the laws of physics. 

He was watching her with the same meditative air, but one corner of his mouth had pulled up in the most subtle of smirks. 

She braced her hands on his chest and groused, “You could lend me a hand, you know.” She wiggled a little, opening her legs wider but he slipped between her buttocks, narrowly missing but for the grace of coconut oil. 

His lips stretched into a feral grin. “It is your will that stays my hand, Nimue. Just say the words.” 

Her willful self-denial had stretched her past arousal into a frenzy, leaving her trembling and unable to focus... or aim. 

With a valiant effort, she tried again, but this time he slipped forward between her thighs, and the friction made her nearly go cross-eyed with need. 

Severus’ face split into a grin, his voice a rumbling purr. “Slippery bugger isn’t it?” 

The glare she turned on the wizard couldn’t hold up under such a temptation. Huffing and mentally swearing to exact revenge another time, Hermione said, “Alright! I am satisfied that you have met the terms of our contract…” She squealed as he accomplished what her fiddling had failed to do by the simple expedient of grasping her hips and thrusting home. 

“You wanted a ride?” He’d dropped the smirk, although she could hear a hint of teasing in his inflexion. “A ride you shall have.” His hands smoothed down her thighs and then back up to her hips. The caress moved him, for he had no anchor but her body. 

She let her head drop back, exhaling as he stretched her wide open, filling her with his delicious heat. “Oh… yessssss.” A flutter of excitement spread out from her core, rippling outwards. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to come just like this. 

“Put your hands up behind your head, and keep them there.” He must have felt her tense because he added, “I love watching your tits bounce, Nimue. Let me see you, all of you.”

It seemed that while she wanted a ride, he wanted a show. Alright, then. Instead of following his instructions immediately to the letter, Hermione lightly raked her nails down his chest, brushing ever so lightly against his flat nipples as she passed them. Following the sparse trail of wiry black hair, she ran her fingers through the thatch of it where it met his groin. 

A covert glance confirmed that her lover, whose thrusts had modulated to shallow, more distracted tempo was watching her intently. 

Biting her lower lip in concentration, Hermione slid her hands down her thighs to caress Severus’ for he’d stopped stroking her in favour of holding her with an anchoring grip. Slowly she trailed her hands up her own body, taking care to highlight her breasts, shoring up what she thought of as meagre handfuls to soft peaks.

The way Severus’ eyes widened when she plucked her nipples made her feel feminine, powerful and sexy. Even though she’d given him permission to touch her once more, he was enthralled. 

Hermione let her lip slip loose in favour of a smile. “I find that I really like it when you watch me like this.” Digging her toes into the blanket, Hermione let her breasts go with a jiggle and lifted her arms so that she could tangle her fingers into her hair. Some of the curls had fallen forward into Hermione’s face. With a back-stretching lean, she tossed her hair back and out of the way. 

Severus' lust-roughened voice cried out, “Gods… Hermione!” 

The change in posture increased the pressure inside of her in a most delightful way. As Severus was holding very very still, she decided that it was her onus to move. She did so carefully as she did not want to dump them both back on the ground. Once was enough for one day, thank you.

When she ground herself back down onto him, she knew that she could find that angle that had worked so well earlier. A tremor below her sharpened her attention back on her lover. He had his eyes closed, his expression a desperate grimace that suggested he struggled for control in his pleasure. 

“Severus!” She leaned a little forward on her next stroke, adding a swing to the motion of her hips. She gasped in startled reaction as she climbed higher and higher. She worked to draw out the moment, her words came out in garbled cries. “Open… eyes. Look!” 

With a shout, he tightened his grip on her legs. That was going to leave a bruise she thought to herself. However, the pain vanished when their eyes locked. Nothing else mattered; this moment was perfect as though all of existence held its breath, waiting. Severus’ eyes were huge and dark, deeper than the vastness of the sea. 

Hermione opened herself to him. 

Her toes and fingers were tingling, alive with the crackling power that foretold of a momentous wave of inevitably bearing down on her. 

Beneath her thighs, she could sense something shifting. Severus moved with her, each blissful stroke multiplied in the call and answer of the oldest dance known to man. Blood rushed to her head and her toes curled. Had she lost her leverage? It did not make a difference. She was going to fall.

_Stay with me, Love. I have you._

His presence was within her, so she heard his words not with her ears but from within her mind. It was probably just as well, for Hermione was screaming herself hoarse, a jagged refrain of incoherent joy. She was beyond words, beyond even a sense of self. Doggedly she pushed forward. 

_That’s it, beautiful little witch, just a little… ah!_

Abruptly, Hermione’s muscles tightened like a bowstring as she teetered on the edge and braced herself, the tension stealing her breath. Into that silence, a frisson of pleasure burst from the small of her back, spreading out in waves that set every nerve ablaze. Her vision dimmed, bled completely of colour to the white of bliss. Her body convulsed around him, some distant primal instinct to hold on and never let go driving her to stay conscious. 

She had no breath left to speak, but Hermione’s mind cried out in mingled joy and need, YES! 

Her wizard’s hips were rocking slower than before, but with no less force, the mixture of grey and sparks of receding pleasure obscured her vision. She regretted that; she would have liked to see his expression. 

_Goddess! Hermione! Please, my sweet witch. Just a little more… please!_

Her breath caught, for the ripples and eddies of her orgasm, which she expected to disappear intensified. The smouldering embers of her pleasure burst back to life with an added ache that brought her back to the teetering brink of another orgasm and held her there - needing something more. 

Somehow, she’d ended up back on the blanket and Severus was on his knees before her, holding her legs in the crooks of his arms as he fucked her with an increasingly erratic abandon. His eyes were open, his mouth slack. 

Unexpectedly, Hermione broke into a second, more temperate orgasm that pulsed through her with quick and focused force. This time she retained mastery over her senses and her heart’s wish was granted.

Severus dropped his head back, breaking eye contact as he followed her, coming undone. His expression was still, peaceful in stark contrast to the guttural grunts and moans she’d not marked until they were absent. She might have thought it was already over, but for the cadence his cock pulsed into her core. 

At length, Severus roused himself from his post-coital lassitude to hauled her up into his arms, cradling her close. Her skin was very cold to his heat, and she was still twitching with residual spasms, making her shiver. 

“Alright?” His terse query lacked eloquence, gravelled with fatigue. 

She wound her arms around his back and pulled her head back to offer him a reassuring smile. 

Severus was watching her with eyes that seemed different somehow. Later, she would write in her journal that in that moment she glimpsed his soul — layered and hidden within dark shadows, a bright complexity that slid out of her view before she could fully grasp its raw, breathtaking beauty. 

“Oh…!” Her own voice sounded small, distant to her own ears. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as she struggled under the enormity of that revelation. The speed and force of her attachment to Severus frightened her rational mind. 

How long had she been falling in love with Severus Snape? She’d known when she’d flown halfway across the world for the conference, although she’d been invited — that was true enough, that he was the real cream that attracted her. She’d believed that her own mind had summoned him in dream form, to finish off the verbal foreplay they’d engaged in over rigorous panel deliberations. Physically, she’d never been with such a generous lover. 

Mind and body -- both were compelling enough to keep her a happy witch for lifetimes, but oh Merlin… his magic was so powerful. That glimpse of his boundless _soul_ changed everything. She’d only seen a fraction, a shadow of its full measure - much like she’d seen the basilisk in a mirror around the corner so long ago and still she was pierced clean through. 

Her heart was full to bursting. Touching a hand to her chest, she could feel it knocking against her breastbone as if it wished to be set free of its confinement. 

“Hermione?” Severus’ voice was clear of the fog of passion, his brow drawn together in faint worry. 

Words evaded her. How could she explain? She knew she must say something, lest Severus be left to draw his own conclusions. “Love is such an inadequate word. Four little letters used to describe natural emotional attachments as fundamental as that of mother and child, the kindred regard of friendship, the deep intimacy of lovers, the more remote duty of kings and the fealty of their people. Even the wisest philosophers tried and failed to expand upon it.”

Severus leaned closer to examine her face; not difficult as she was still seated upon his lap. With one of his hands, with the controlled strength used the most delicate of touches to brush away a tear. 

Tightening the hand on her breast to a fist, she pressed onward. “My glass is full, overflowing as you see.” She sniffed, mustering what must be a rather watery smile. 

“You are not hurt?” His expression was quite serious as he searched her, his hands gliding over her legs and back. 

Shaking her head, she tapped her hand to her chest. “This isn’t precisely pain. My heart is expanding, I think. Widening, perhaps?”

A faint edge of annoyance leaked into his reply, “Hermione, you are speaking in riddles. As much as I enjoy those, perhaps you should pretend that you are talking to one of your fellow Gryffindors?” 

Laughing out of frustration as much as mirth, Hermione dropped her head to his shoulder. “Only if you hold me while I attempt it. If Aristotle couldn’t dumb it down, I am not sure why you think I can…” 

Strong arms wrapped around her as he said, “Because you are Hermione Granger, and you are a brilliant witch.” 

The ache in her chest lessened as the balm of a well-placed compliment took away the sting. Hermione closed her eyes and let herself be comforted. “As I was saying, love is not enough of a word. It is lacking in scope and precision. I do not understand what or how this happened so quickly, but that word is all I have. I love you, Severus Snape.” 

In the silence that followed, which lasted moments but felt like hours, Hermione’s mind extrapolated a myriad of reactions. Was it too soon to be making such declarations? Had she ruined everything by giving him this gift? She had not intended to burden him, but that lovely speech this morning had her thinking she was not alone in her feelings. She weighed the calculations done hastily in her heart, adding in variables for the unexpected and unknowns that she might not have anticipated from such a complicated wizard with a long and notably unfortunate history with love. All of this sent her spiralling downward to a conclusion that she feared: the absolute zero of outright rejection. 

In all of the iterations, none of her predictions came close to what he said next. 

“You love me for my cock, I think.” 

Laughter bubbled up from within her, spilling out more liberally than her tears. “Severus!” 

“Deny it, then.” 

She wriggled, reminding him that his cock was still sheathed firmly inside of her. “Of course I adore your cock, Severus, but that’s not…” 

Severus’ cock swelled within her as if it understood her praise.

The man attached to the celebrated cock interrupted, saying, “Is it not the most magnificent cock you have ever beheld? You argued a passionate case for full access to it, successfully I might add.” He nuzzled her hair and spoke softly in her ear, “Although your strategy of presenting the grievances naked did help sway the cooperation of the defendant.” 

Hermione shivered as his breath tickled her, for she was still exquisitely sensitive. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen that many penises, so I wouldn’t profess to be an expert. Shall I conduct a survey?” Her words were cut off as his muscles bunched underneath her, the only warning she had before he flipped her so that her back was flat on the blanket, his body covering hers.

Lowering his voice to a throaty growl, Severus said, “No need, my little witch. I shall have to demonstrate for you since you are undecided. By the terms of our contract, I declare this a special occasion, outside the stipulated 2:1 orgasm ratio.” He punctuated every phrase with a thrust. 

“Fucking hell, you’re eager!” She didn’t have the will to feel embarrassed, subsumed by her own need to drive her point home before he screwed her linguistic skills back down to the level of “troll.” The pain in Hermione’s chest dissipated to nearly nothing as she summoned her focus, lifted her hands to capture his face and attention (which had dropped back down to her breasts once more) and spoke the words from her heart. 

“I love you, Severus Snape. All of you: mind, magic, and … magnificent cock.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: 
> 
> * Bird is an Apapane. The link in the story should lead to a youtube clip of its song. 
> 
> Well, this has been an experience! There MAY be an epilogue someday. I hope you've enjoyed this story and found it as fulfilling to read as I have to write it. Thank you all for your support — it means so much to me.
> 
> There is a terrible lightning storm so I'm


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